#tollywood x reader

[allari-ammayi]

I'M SO EXCITED FOR YOUR BHALLA X READER FIC I GENUINELY CANNOT WAIT ARGHHHANXJAKHDIANZJANNZ

'Wife' I'M GONNA DIE OF SUSPENSE AMD EXCITMENT AJHD 😫😫😫😫

Wife | Pt. 1《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! Reader☆

Synopsis: Y/n and Bhallaladeva have been married for three months but after their wedding ceremony came to an end, y/n hasn't seen him or heard of him since. It's not like she's his first wife she likely won't be his last- is what she thinks. But when Bhallaladeva sends a servant to summon y/n to his quarters late one night, y/n hopes to fulfil their unstarted martial duties, instead, Bhalla requests that y/n do something else for him. Something y/n never expected to hear from the ruthless king of Mahismati. 《Pt. 1, 1.9k Words》

Note: This is the x reader version of this fic. If you would like to read the OC version, it will be available on my OC masterlist page! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

“It’s been two months, Mama {Trans. ‘Uncle’}.”

“For most women, it was six, my dear.”

“What’s the point of even marrying so many women if he isn’t going to talk to any of them?”

“Political reasons. Amma, Y/n, you should stop waiting for him and go to sleep, my lady.”

The loyal but helpless Kattappa spoke as ‘the King’ Bhallaladeva’s newest concubine resurfaced her face from in between her knees.

The sky was dark and Kattapa had just finished his duty of serving the lady some fruit. It wasn’t quite his duty, but something he chose to do. Y/n never had a proper father and Kattapa was the closest she had ever gotten.

Y/n looked up at the sky and thought over the past few months. It’s already been three years since the defeat of Bahubali and the raising of Bhallaladeva.

Nothing changed much for Y/n, but she knew it was only because she was the daughter of a higher official. The poorer people of the nation though, were being robbed of everything they once owned.

“Are you sure he won’t visit me?” Y/n asked, leaning the side of her face on her knees, looking off into the trees as she rested on the balcony ledge.

“I don’t think it’s likely, my lady.” Kattapa adjusted his sword back into its place and stood before Y/n as she turned her head towards him.

He gave her a sharp bow with his fist to his heart, wished her a good night’s sleep and trotted off, leaving y/n to think by herself.

True, it had already been two months since she had been betrothed to the king of Mahismati. But not once since her wedding had she seen his face.

Even before the wedding, she had never really seen him. Maybe once or twice when the two were younger and Bhallaladeva was considered one of the high and prideful princes, always finding ways to make his mother proud.

Y/n couldn’t remember if she was merely imagining it, but she also considered the multiple moments of eye contact she and Bhalla had shared previous to their marriage full of romantic tension. Were those gazes they shared a figment of her imagination?

On her wedding day, y/n and Bhalla had exchanged short glances and a single moment of eye contact. Since then, they had never spoken. Actually, now that y/n thought about it, Bhalla and y/n had never spoken even on their wedding day. Not even on their wedding night, which Y/n was eagerly waiting for.

She draped herself in the prettiest white and gold sari that she could afford and waited on the bed covered in flower petals for her beloved. High with the hopes of feeling love and giggling like a schoolgirl, Y/n waited for a few minutes.

Bhalla was not there.

She waited an hour.

Still, no one was there to entertain her or to be entertained by her.

Y/n waited for a couple more hours, her excitement and giddiness ebbing away with every second that passed, till she succumbed to the desire for her sleep.

It was a sad night and an even worse next morning. The very next morning, hoping to wake up to the face of her dear new husband, Y/n awoke to an empty bed, the flower petals on Bhalla’s side undisturbed, making Y/n realise that she had spent the night alone. Her precious wedding night.

The night in which a husband and wife would share moments of intimacy together. She had spent that night alone, all by her lonesome. The same continued for the next two months. Y/n waited patiently and eagerly in her room till late hours every night hoping that at least one day Bhallaladeva would suddenly remember his latest wife and visit her.

But it was never the case.

Y/n, being close with all of his other wives, was told several times to give up and get on with her life. That Bhalla had never visited the other wives before either, and if he did, it was only for the most important of formal reasons. If else, he would send servants.

The other wives pitied Y/n. They even saw a bit of themselves in her, but no one ever waited for Bhalla for that long like a love-sick puppy. They usually gave up after a week or two.

“Ayyo, picchi pilla, {Trans. ‘Oh, you silly girl.’}” Bhalla’s third wife spoke as she peeled an apple with the sharp end of a dagger for her, Y/n and a couple of other wives as they sat around and chatted like they always did.

“He isn’t going to come, Chinni.” Bhalla’s second wife spoke as caressed Y/n’s head affectionately.

“Kadu. Aiyna vastharu. Naku namakam undi. {Trans. ‘No. I believe in him, he’ll come for me.’}” Y/n said softly as she stared at the ground.

“Ma matta vini aiyna kosam agadam maneyi, thalli. {Trans. ‘Listen to us and stop waiting around for him, my dear.’}” Another spoke up as Y/n stubbornly cushioned her chin on her kneecap as she leaned her back against a pillar. Y/n shook her head slightly and continued staring forward intently.

“Aiyna ki na meda prema undi. Vastaru. Vacchi teestaru. {Trans. ‘He loves me. He’ll come for you, just you wait.’}”

At Y/n’s words, half the wives burst out in laughter while the others quietly giggled to themselves. Y/n’s head shot up at him in half-confusion and half-anger and she glared at him.

“Enduku navvutunaru!? {Transl. ‘Why’re you laughing!?’}”

“Picchi pilla, {Trans. ‘Silly girl,’}” Bhalla’s fourth wive said, getting up to sit next to y/n, draping her arm over y/n’s shoulders. “Asala aiyina ki prema ante ento tellidu. Aiyna ki preminche shakti ledu. {Trans. ‘He doesn’t even know what loves is. He can’t feel love.’}” Y/n’s eyebrows came together in confusion.

“Aithe mari mimmalini ela premistunaru? {Trans. ‘Then how is he loving you all?’}” The girl asked, naively, and once again, the group of women burst into giggles.

“Aiyna mammalini evaruni preminchateledu. {Trans. ‘He isn’t in love with any of us and doesn’t love aany of us.’}”

“He doesn’t even lust after us.”

“What..?” Y/n said, her motuh agape.

“That’s true.” The first wife spoke out, wise as ever, “We’re only married to him because there’s something from our families he wants. Be it armies, money or privileges. Anything.”

“Yes. Never once has he ever shown us affection or love or anything even close.”

“Mari meeku baathaga leda? {Trans. ‘Then are you not sad?’}” Y/n asked, her eyes starting to droop in pity. The other women smiled sweetly, none in pity or sadness.

“No. Not really,” The first said, “He never gave us a reason to love him in the first place, so it was easy. We have our own lives and he has his.”

These words caused a flurry of emotions to erupt within y/n’s heart but none so as strong as her iron will and faith in the king.

All the wives urged her to move on. They encouraged her to use her status as one of Bhalla’s wives to her advantage and achieve anything she wanted to in life.

But y/n never gave up hope.

Or at least not till the third month.

Y/n had yet to see hide nor hair of Bhalla, the man she was made to dedicate her life to, and she was starting to lose hope.

Would she finally break and give up like the rest of the wives had? Y/n thought about it that night in the chilly, dark, open balcony.

Was it even worth waiting anymore?

Just as y/n was about to think not, she heard the sound of shuffling footsteps advancing towards her room.

Y/n’s heart jumped and butterflies attacked her stomach.

Could it be..?

The sound of knocks on Y/n’s door echoed through the room and reached her ears, a sudden feeling of excitement starting to awaken within her, lighting up the entire room.

Y/n shot up and raced out of the balcony, running to the door, her anklets and bangels jingling and dangling as she ran, sounding a sweet harmony at the girl’s glee.

Y/n stood in front of the door, her heart racing. She gulped and reached the large lock that held the two massive maple doors together and with a final surge of excitement she dragged the doors open, her breath fast and her face pink, only to be faced with a punch from disappointment.

In front of her stood not her husband, but rather a young servant. Y/n felt her heart drop and her legs weaken as she grasped onto the door for support.

“Oh… Gowri… What is it?” Y/n asked the servant, her obvious look of excitement dissolving into a bitter look of disappointment.

“My lady, I was sent by-” Assuming that the servant was sent by one of the other wives, y/n strayed her attention elsewhere, barely listening, holding her tears of self-pity back. “-His Majesty.”

Y/n felt herself nearly topple over as she lost grip on the door, effectively being caught by the surprised servant who helped her readjust her composure.

“Did- Did you just say ‘His Majesty’?” Y/n asked, somewhat contemplating wether she had actually gone insane from yearning for Bhalla for so long that she was now imagining things.

“Yes. His Majesty is summoning you to his quarters.” The servant said and Y/n began seeing stars in front of her eyes.

“Would- Would you please repeat that?” Y/n requested, beggining to lose grasp of herself in the chaos of her mind, her excitement and adrenaline running high.

“His Majesty has sent me to inform you that he wishes to see you in his quarters.”

“Do you know what for..?” Y/n asked. She thought she was being selfish and greedy when she had a tiny hope in her heart that the servant wouldn’t say that y/n was needed for formal reasons.

“I believe his majesty-” Gowri gulped, tripping over her words and her eyes darting around, avoiding Y/n’s eyes.

“Yes?”

“I-I believe-” Gowri’s eyebrows scrunched together and she let out a quick sigh, “I’m unsure, your highness. I was only tasked with bringing you there.” Gowri said with unease, leaving a puzzled Y/n to wonder by she was being summoned.

“Oh… Alright.” Y/n said, mildly confused, “Aithe pada. {Trans. ‘Then let’s go.’}”

And so set off, the confused wife and the uneasy servant who seemed eager to fidget with her thumbs, desperate to leave.

“Just this way, your highness,” Gowri said, leading Y/n to a set of great big oka doors, far larger than Y/n’s. “His Majesty is waiting inside for you, your highness.” Gowri bowed to Y/n, not lifting her head up.

“But-” Y/n gulped as looked at the doors. “Is this not his Majesty’s room? I thought you were leading me to his office?” Gowri remained in a bow, not answering Y/n or liftening her head up.

Y/n gulped and begrudgingly put her palm on the door. With a slight push of uneasiness, the doors creaked open ever so slightly and with the noise of the door, the poor servant jumped and scampered away, keeping her head low in a bow.

Y/n turned her attention away from the jumpy servant and back to the door’s creak, from which the light of torches was spilling out. Y/n opened the door a little more and slowly poked her head inside, looking around to see where Bhallaladeva was and what he wanted with her.

Y/n didn’t know a thing about Bhalla’s room, for she had never been there.

Truth be told, no wife of Bhalla’s had ever gotten as close to his room as Y/n was now, so she knew it was urgent.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 None yet! Please reply to this post if you wish to be tagged in my future works, fics, and the next part to this story! :)

[bhalare-vichitram]

Bheem: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed.

Ram:

Ram: I'm gonna tell him.

Y/n: Don't you dare.

[sada-siva-sanyaasi]

jagadeka veerudu athiloka sundari - part fourteen

(a/n - have you missed me? hellooooo there, sorry for vanishing for six whole months, I just lost the will to write, me thinks. anyway, enjoy? enjoy.

~ juhi <3)

Masterlist

Bijjaladeva stormed out of the palace, as fast as his legs could carry him. It had been eight whole months since he had seen his son, and he slowly went insane in the huge palace by himself. Kattappa governed the empire on Bhalla’s behalf, adding insult to his father’s injury. Now that his son had finally returned to him, he could be happy. 

Or so he had thought.

Bhalla returned to Mahishmati with his fully pregnant wife, her best friend’s words from six months ago ringing in his ears. 

Devasena stood a few metres away from Bhalla, her grip on her sword steel-like. “She needs to be at Sundarsi right now, and you know that. Why did you bring her here?” “Because she needs her best friend more.” Bhalla stared ahead, watching the small kingdom. 

“Kuntala looks like it has recovered.” Devasena scoffed at his remark and glared at him. “No thanks to you.” Silence settled as her eyes softened slowly. “You can keep her here however long you wish to, but she needs to be at her home to be truly happy. To be safe. Or her child-”

“I can’t take her to Sundarsi, that will alert my father of our whereabouts immediately. I wish to be away from him, for their sake. He would kill them both if we go now. She’s safest here, away from my father’s evil intent.”

He sighed, turning to Devasena. “I need to protect her, and the one coming to us soon. So think of this as me trying to be a good husband.” Devasena kept staring at him, her eyes cold, and she turned to leave. She paused, her back to him. “You need to go to Sundarsi for your wife, though. Her child needs to be born there, and you know that.” Bhalla huffed, nodding. 

“I do know what they both need, but for now, let us stay here until the time is right.”

Bijjaladeva froze the minute Aarya set foot into the palace, his eyes bulging out as he stared at her pregnant body, tears filling his eyes as he turned to look at Bhalla, his lips wobbling as he raised a shaky finger up at his son. “What have you done?” He cried, horrified and disgusted. Bhalla stared coldly at his father as Aarya dutifully bent down slowly to seek Bijjaladeva’s blessings. “We seek your b-” “Silence, you witch!” Bijjaladeva thundered, glaring at her as he stepped back, looking at her and then at his son. “How could you do this, Bhalla? You wed and now she’s expecting a child?! A child from her is no less than a curse to us, to our kingdom!” Bhalla silently helped Aarya stand up again, rubbing her belly gently and supporting her back, fondly smiling at her, before turning to coldly stare at his father. “You will not speak ill of my child, Nanna, or of my wife.” Bhalla’s proud smirk peeked through when he called Aarya his wife, and Bijjaladeva fumed. 

“Wife? Wife?! You trust this witch of a woman that much? You left your kingdom for months, letting it be governed by a slave, and you returned with this vile woman, swollen with a monster like her, and you expect me to be completely alright with it?!” Bijjaladeva glared at Aarya and pointed at her belly with disgust, spitting venom. “Are you even certain that this vile witch is carrying your-” A dagger materialised in Aarya’s hand as she pointed it at Bijjaladeva’s throat, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she pressed it in enough to draw out blood. Bhalla coldly glared at his father, a protective arm around Aarya. “Speak however you wish to about me, not a word against my child.” Aarya hissed, stepping forward as Bijjaladeva’s eyes shook, unable to look at her. “You’re old and my king’s father, so I’m bound to give you a little more respect than your worthless self deserves, but don’t mistake my manners and morals as weakness.” Bhalla calmly pulled her back, gently taking the dagger out of her hands as he smiled at her. “Aarya, you need to rest, come on. Go to our quarters, I’ll be with you shortly. I need to talk to my father.” Aarya nodded, following a few soldiers and maids and leaving, and Bhalla turned to glare at his father. “Aarya told you to say whatever you want about her, but if you even think of doing so again I’ll slit your throat myself, Nanna. She’s my wife, your daughter-in-law and the Empress of Mahishmati and Sundarsi.” Bhalla watched as his father’s face crumbled, a flurry of emotions passing through him as the old man choked and stumbled upon his words, tears running down his face. “You- all this, for a sleazy wo-” 

“No. All this, for my woman. For my wife.” 

Bhalla glared at him and stepped closer, towering over him as he slowly spoke. “I’m warning you for the last time, Nanna. Not a word against my queen; not a word against the mother of my child.” Bhalla turned and stalked off as his father was left behind, alone yet again. Bijjaladeva collapsed on the floor, weeping like a lost child, watching the emperor of Mahishmati with his family.

— — — 

Aarya sat on her bed, sighing softly as she rubbed her swollen belly, shifting uncomfortably as she settled down. Being pregnant wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world, it’s honestly not talked about enough. The pains, the discomfort, the uneasy changes in the body. Aarya scowled, trying to find some sort of comfort when she heard a chuckle and turned to see her husband watching her, a smug smile on his face. She scowled harder, rolling her eyes. “Aarya, this is ridiculous, you know that. I still don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” Bhalla waltzed over, gently lifting her and fixing pillows under to make her comfortable exactly how she preferred, moving to sit behind her as he pushed her head into his lap, massaging her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m not mad at all, husband.” Aarya refused to sigh out in relief as he massaged her head, his hands slowly moving to her shoulders. “I just wish to know why we are here and not in Sundarsi.” She sat up and Bhalla smirked, nodding. “You’re not mad, are you?” “I wish to give birth in my kingdom and you brought me—”

“I brought you here only to show my father how happy you make me, my queen.” Bhalla interrupted gently, cradling her face. “I brought you here so that my wife would step foot in the palace, not just the Queen of Sundarsi. I brought the Empress of Mahishmati, the mother of my heir and my wife to Mahishmati. And I know I did no wrong.” Aarya stared at him, sighing softly as she moved closer to him, resting her back against his chest as he gently wrapped his arms around her, kissing her temple. She watched as he interlaced his fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over her fingers as he raised her arm to kiss her fingertips. 

“I still wish to give birth in Sundarsi, Bhalla.” She whispered, looking at him softly. “I know, my queen, and you will. Because as much as the child inside is mine, I’m glad you have a bigger claim on the little one.” He kissed her temple again, leaning lower to kiss the place her neck met her shoulder, running a soothing hand over her side.

Aarya smiled softly at his affection, nuzzling into him. “Who do you think it will be? A prince or a princess?” Bhalla chuckled at her question, kissing her cheek. “A warrior, like my wife.” Aarya blushed and giggled, shaking her head. “Your wife hasn’t been a warrior ever since she’s gotten a child inside her, you know. That’s a long time.”

Bhalla softly stared at Aarya and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “This is also a battle you’re fighting, Aarya. Do you think I don’t notice the doubt and fear in your eyes every single second of the day? The worry, the insecurity, the troubled questions about yourself and this unborn little royal.”

He kissed her, pulling her closer as his hand ran over her back, making her sigh softly. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve had the pleasure of knowing my entire life, and I’m the son of Rajamata Sivagami. I’ve seen you govern your kingdom while on the run, care for me, yourself, our child, help Devasena rebuild her kingdom, not complain a single time about our conditions and push through all of it with the most graceful smile.” Bhalla caressed her face, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve known women were the fiercest forces on this planet, but I only truly understood how strong after seeing you. I love everything about you, Aarya, and I’ll help in any way that I can to aid you in this internal battle of yours. And if I must take you to your kingdom, I shall.”

Aarya calmly stared at her husband through his monologue, a small smile playing on her lips as she realised just how much Bhalla changed in the last few months, a change even Devasena couldn’t believe despite seeing it with her own eyes.

Aarya kissed his forehead and smiled gently at him, cupping his face. “I’m so proud that my child has you as a father. Amarendra would be, as well.” Bhalla softened at her words, resting his head against hers as they simply basked in each other’s presence. 

— — —

Aarya rested in Bhalla’s arms as they sailed to Sundarsi, and he gently rubbed her hips to soothe any of her pains. His father, who came to talk to him, saw him and fumed silently, turning and walking back to his room in the ship, pausing in front of the small statue of Durga Maa that was sailing along with them. “You… you made me bring that woman into our lives, haven’t you? Fine. I'll be the one to make sure she’s gone as well. Forever.”

--------------

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[ulaganayagi]

𝙋𝙍𝙄𝙏𝘼𝙈 𝙋𝙔𝘼𝘼𝙍𝙀

Warnings: degradation, pure smut, amarendra being a subby baby, reader being jealous (and mean?)

Pairing: Sub!Amarendra Baahubali x Dom!Fem!Reader.

Amrendra was a loyal husband, the whole kingdom was aware of that but what they were also aware of was that he had a habit of flirting lightly. 

It stemmed from back in his teens when he was a ladies man, spending time with girls after training, the most eligible bachelor of the kingdom.

“Isn’t it reasonable that I need to see some kind of beauty after looking at Kattappa and my brooding brother all the time?”

That was his excuse to literally drown in a crowd of girls, who all came to only catch a glimpse of him, most of his free time.

It was a little amusing to watch the girls react to the news of him getting married to the princess of Sitagarh. It was like a mild revolt happening all over Mahishmati, Kattappa was worried there for weeks and it made the younger prince laugh till his eyes teared up.

The princess consort to the younger prince was a owner of a interesting personality. You were a woman of a strong mind, immense skills in both the war fields and the palace.

But one thing that only Amrendra knew about you that you were possessive to your last bone. You DID NOT like sharing your stuff, sharing him was totally out of question.

Which was what exactly led to his current situation.

“(Y/N)…please...fuck! sensitive--!" Amarendra whines with his wobbly lips. You hadn't let him cum everytime he was close to do so and his eyes start to tear up at the sensation your hand at his already sensitive cock. He looked so pretty beneath you, his medium length hair disheveled with his lip apart, letting out slutty moans and whimpers as she stroked it longingly halfway.

"Oh? What happened to the Amarendra that winked oh-so-confidently at other women forgetting the fact that he himself already has a fiancée, hm?" You chuckled, gripping his cock slightly tight, letting your thumb rub against the throbbing tip. He lets out a loud moan, trying to buck his hips for more friction.

" 'm sorry, love...'m sorry! won't do it again--! Just please--! " He babbles pathetically in response, his dick painfully aching for release.

"Please what, Amarendra? I need words."

"Please--L-let me cum! I wanna cum f'you!" He rambled on as he bucked his hips again.

"Well..since you've been a good boy f'me, I'll allow it. Go on. Cum then, cum f'me, yeah?"

It doesn't take long before white ropes of cum shoot out of his dick as he cums with a loud cry, letting his head fall back on silky sheets and into your hands, letting out strings of 'thank yous' from his mouth. You smirk down at the sight of his drool dripping down his bearded chin, fat tears streaming down his cheeks and the noise he made while you moved your fingers that was coated with his cum to your mouth, licking it clean.

"Who knew that the King of Mahishmati, the one who killed the great Kalakeya was just a slutty whore, hm? What would people think about their king moaning so pathetically for his wife?" You sneer softly down at him, moving on to wipe his tears as he sniffled, surpassing a sob before she starts unwrapping your blue sari off your figure.

"Only f'you...'m a whore only for you..."

''That's right, darling. Only f'me, not for those girls or anyone else, isn’t that right?”

Amarendra couldn’t help but let out a moan at that while he relentlessly nods, unaware of the layers after layers that fell from your figure until you climbed over him. You couldn’t help but giggle at his reply.

“Now…you’re going to be a good boy and let me ride your dick, won’t you, darling?”

“Yes—Yes I will—Ah!”

He let out a loud choked gasp as you lower yourself on his overly sensitive dick, his grip on pillow becoming tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. The feeling of your pussy enveloping his dick was enough to drive him over the edge as he struggled to hold back from cumming again.

Sweat shone on his forehead and his broad chest. He moved his trembling hands to grip your sides, letting himself drown at the delicious feeling of his cock thrusting into your tight velvety walls. It was only for a moment before you start moving faster, bouncing on his dick up and down as he lets out a guttural moan.

“F—fuck! Slow down—! ‘S too much! I’m gonna—!”

You chuckle at his struggle to talk, stroking his hair gently, “You gonna cum—nngh—again, love? Cum with me, yeah?”

That was all it took before his cum coated your dripping sex, letting out a strangled sob as he did so. You cooed at how he was such a drooling mess whilst he buried his face against the crook of your neck, his cock still buried deep within your pussy.

There was moment of silence except of his heavy panting until he broke the silence, speaking with a tired and hoarse voice from all the screaming,

“I won’t do it again….’m sorry…”

You couldn’t help but smile, “I know you won’t, darling.”

Taglist: @mahi-wayy (my co writer for this fic^^), @warnermeadowsgirl

Lemme know if you wanna be in the taglist!

𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐘: @𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘨𝘪 𝘢𝘯𝘥 @𝘮𝘢𝘩𝘪-𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘺

[vijayasena]

MATHRUBHUMI....

Prologue.......

just like two sides of coins she also had two sides one was for all the world and another was just hiding underneath..

she also had the same goals as them

but all of them had different ways to achieve them..

all had promises to fullfill..

some picked up most painful and difficult path to achieve them ..

emotions hurt, feelings hurt, damage takes place for two hearts

but this is all about their nation .. they can do anything for their nation..

.Plot ..

Niyati Was never one of those woman who considered being an obedient wife and a servant to their family is all about a woman's existence in the society..

Living with a fire to finish the British Rule from India since childhood she only had one aim..

Send those whites on their own motherland for good..

She worked hard to achieve this aim despite being born in that time period where people considered woman as a burden and thought if they studied like men they will gonna be corrupt..

She was a rebel, fiesty and sassy woman who didn't cared about conservative mind..

But her life took a big turn when she was forced to get married to a person who served as the police officer to those filthy whites.. a traitor in her eyes..

But he also had valid reasons for serving to those people

Who captured his motherland..

She never cared about him

He didn't cared about her.

Just like strangers

And both were happy with it..

He represented fire

Whereas she was like Earth gentle yet capable of making chaos.. 

And in their non existent relationship there was one more thing that both shared..

Both have promises to fullfill

Their goals were same

Their aim was similar

But both were walking on different paths..

Until third person a best friend for Ram a brother for niyati stepped in their life and this time things took 360 degree turn..

..A saga ..

People fix each other

Again break each other

Hate each other

Fall for each other

Become friends

Then strangers

Again become enemies ..

______________________________________________________________________________________________

N I Y A T I

..W A Y A N G N A K A R ..

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A G E : 22

" The worst thing about betrayal is..

It never comes from strangers"

" Not all women like to sit back and look pretty"..

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.A L L U R I

S I T A R A M

R A J U....

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A G E : 23

" The only thing that can completely destroy me, shatter me and hurt me are my own emotions"..

" I am a monster in my own eyes"....

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@mad-who-ra @ma-douce-souffrance @mellaga-karagani @mayakimayahai @maooyinysparkle @natures-marvel @navaratna @nerdreader @neengareadynaaready @bhalare-vichitram @btw-its-tamanna @belligerentmistletoe @voidsteffy @vidhi-ka-vidhaan @yehsahihai @whimsicalfaeries @willowwhispers01 @whippersnappersbookworm @warnermeadowsgirl @ek-ladki-bheegi-bhagi-si @eenadu-varthalu @rrr-is-gay @rambheemlove @ramcharantitties @ronaldofandom @trashmeowcan @irisesforyoureyes @o-sahiba @pulihora @ambidextrousarcher @amritkimohini @akshinayak @alhad-cleopatra @sada-siva-sanyaasi @sambaridli @dumdaradumdaradum @daughterofruins @fangirlshrewt97 @houseofbreadpakoda @hissterical-nyaan @hinsaa-paramo-dharma @hum-suffer @humapkehaikaun @jjwolfesworld @jrntrtitties @kanyasstuff @kanhapriya @kaagazkefool @lil-stark @livelaughlovechai

[mellaga-karagani]

AAAAH I saw a prompt and I'm here in your ask box!

For Nandu from Athadu:

"I'm scared of the things I would do for you, but I also hate the idea of anyone else having you."

(lots of love 💖)

Ahhh omg wait did you think I could actually write!?!? I swear I can't write for shit bro, some of the beautiful humans that I know can write and do what they do pretty damn impressively well are @allari-ammayi, @vijayasena, @mahi-wayy. But since ily sm and I have nothing better to do, I'm willing to give it a go! (Also ignore any spelling mistakes, typos or just how generally bad it is, I wrote it in like an hour lol)

❝I'm scared of the things I would do for you, but I also hate the idea of anyone else having you.❞

Nandu, or rather Pardhu, now that he had become a part of this family who had no idea what happened to their real Pardhu, hated the sight of you. 

He hated the way you looked, he hated the way you spoke, he hated the way your eyes sparkled whenever you talked to him, and the thing he hated most of all was that he didn't even hate you at all. 

He hated the way you made him feel. He hated that whenever you were around him, he felt things he hadn’t felt in years. 

Every word you spoke made him feel warm on the inside, every light touch of yours that accidentally grazed over him felt like it melted the ice on his skin. He wanted to hate you. He wanted his soul to shrivel up with disgust at the mere sight of you because he was scared. Scared that if he fell down the rabbit hole, there would be no return. 

Nandu has thoughts when he’s alone. Thoughts that scare him. Thoughts that tell him to tell you that he loves you. Thoughts that tell him if you say no–! Nandu smacked himself on his cheek lightly, dreading what the dark part of his mind would tell him to do if you said no. 

He didn’t know how or even why, but the longer he was near you, the more often these thoughts came, sometimes even while you were talking to him. 

The thoughts were endless. What if you said no? What would he do then? Would he take you away? Away from your family to have you all to himself? 

Had he had this same thought before he met you, Nandu wouldn’t have hesitated to get it done, but that was the worst part. You made him a better person, and now, whenever Nandu thinks about the things he would do for you, a feeling of terror washes over him. So he tried to hate you. 

And you, much to his horror, understood that he ‘hated’ you. You understood the way he left when you were around, the way he wouldn’t reply to you if you greeted him, or the way he dodged every chance to be in the same area as you. 

Being the sweet and understanding girl you were, part of the reason he hopelessly fell for you, you distanced yourself from him, not wanting to discomfort him. 

Nandu didn’t know whether to be happy about this or not. His brain, the more logical part at least, told him this was good. Now he could forget you a lot easier. But his heart – ooh, his heart.

The more you distanced yourself from him, the more other men started approaching you. Coming up to you, talking so casually, making you smile so easily. 

Nandu hadn’t realised until you distanced yourself from him the effect he seemed to have had on the men around you. 

The dangerous looks he gave to men who spoke to you, the extra hard handshakes he would give to the ones who you introduced him to, Nandu never even realised he did any of this stuff. 

It all just came out naturally. And now that Nandu wasn’t as close to you, more guys, hoping to be potential suitors approached you. 

Each of your interactions with other men acted like a boulder, pushing Nandu closer and closer to the edge of the cliff, and it shivered Nandu to the bone when he thought about what could happen if the boulder fell off the edge. 

This feeling – seeing you with other men – was worse than those thoughts. 

❝I'm scared of the things I would do for you, but I also hate the idea of anyone else having you.❞

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

Taglist: @allari-ammayi , @vellipo-mellaga , @vijayasena , @lite-teesko, @toomanyfanficsbruh , @voidsteffy (Please reply if you wish to be part of future taglists!)

Note: Requests are open, I write mostly for Telugu and Tamizh characters, but I also accept general Indian!!

[xmaudx]

BAKUGOU X READER HEADCANNON FOR MY LOVELY WRITERS

im too delusional for using a tollywood movie to give me a bakugou x reader headcannon but hear me out. Okay so in a past fantasy au life where deku bakugou and the rest of them either own a realm within asian or work for their king/queen. bakugou is prince of the dragon rhealm (obvs) with kiri being his personal dragon. And then there’s you gonna make the reader indian cus why not do it for my south asians but your the princess of a much smaller realm. I’d like to think how the two of u meet is cus suki is travelling around asia as a punishment by his mum for idk fucking something up ( maybe beating up someone from the todoroki family lol ) and so when he’s visiting india he’s near ur realm. And whilst we’re outside your kingdom there’s a few bandits being menaces to a nearby village tryna rob families of their gold and hurt the women. And suki thinks of interrupting but kiri stops him for a moment saying this could cause a fallout with the realms cus apparently this intefers w other peoples business ( crazy ik ) so whilst suki is like arguing w kiri he hadn’t noticed your carriage door open. Only when a shawl sort of waves up and down attracting many of the bandits does he start to focus on you. He sees how the rich silk dresses your skin,the gold jewellery shining under the sun. But damn that shawl he cant see your face. Until a sword pierces through the shawl stabbing three of the bandits. From the cut on ur shawl he sees ur eyes first ( if you guys havent clocked this is devasenas entrance from baahubali i usggest yall watch it ) and from then on he sees your whole face as you fight against the bandits successfully winning.Long story short yall fall in love u find out hes this big prince. sick. except suki gets a message back from his mum telling him to bring you back for dabi so that you can be his wife before he is to return shortly. Ofc u get pissed suki knows his mum however does not have a choice if she is to maintain the peace amongst all realms of else it can cause a huge war. he says he will only bring u as a guest back to his home to which u agree. again long story short baahubali 2 story i suggest yall watch it. but yeh no so basically u go to sukis as a guest not as a potential wife, yell at dabi for his misogynistic view of love, find yourself being the catalyst for a major war w basicaally all the league of villains againt mha main cast. Someway along the line ur kidnapped by dabi raped horribly, tortured blah blah blah. when everyone meets at the battle, youre thrown to the floor for all to see your state. bakugou swears to kill dabi which u both do together, ur given basic soldier clothing after suki coaxed u to take rest instead u reply with “ i fight” but as your both walkign to each other near the end of the battle shiggy crushes bakugous heart. suki falls on top of u, u cry like how wanda did over her brother falling to ur knees before being shot by arrows and dying too. PAST LIFE DONE. so now in the current mha world u and suki r both well known heroes but ur like also top 2 in india but ur now moving to japan for a long term mission at a hero conference ur hand brushes against suki which reminds him a bit about his past life tho he cant see ur face from his memory. when he turns to see who brushed his hand he finds himself in a crowd with so many possibilities. u guys can take it from there

[juststoriesintheend]

Canon x Reader Masterlist

By Fandom

Star Wars

Filmi (Tollywood, Kollywood, Bollywood)

[janetsnakehole02]

Hey Telugu Marvel fic writers here me out - Loki x reader fic where the reader is from a different realm (Vanaheim, Alfheim, maybe a made up one idc)

And the plot is Fidaa

So America is Asgard and India is the other realm

If I get time during my upcoming break I might actually write it??? Or at least get started while the inspiration lasts lmao

Tagging the very few desi fic writers for Loki that I know of @lokisprettygirl @zemosimp05 @latent-thoughts idk if any of you are Telugu but if you are then consider this a request from me and obviously there’s absolutely no obligation pls only do this if you’re willing/able and @lil-stark I know you don’t write for Loki but if you know any Telugu fic writers that do then can you send this to them pls ehehe again no obligation at all only if they’re free and interested

[lakshmismit]

Beauty & the beast called Colorism

Colorism is a deeply personal issue for me. Reading this case resurfaced, for a fleeting few hours, the feelings of shame and being less than that I endured since my childhood- feelings that I have been actively working to shed ever since I left India two years ago. The following paragraph is an account of some of the experiences that shaped my mind as a young woman. These experiences do not represent all of who I am- I lived a privileged life in a country ridden with various systemic issues and I continue to be grateful for my status. But I document them here first to give a glimpse of the pernicious impact of colorism on someone as privileged and powerful as me and then to prompt my woke readers to try and imagine and appreciate the plight of any Indian woman who is less privileged, less independent, less financially stable and more bound to the rules of India's patriarchal system than me. That imagination is critical to understanding the gravity of Colorism as an issue. So here's my account:

Growing up as a dark skinned woman in a middle-class family in India, I repeatedly heard the same narrative in my family- fairness is aspirational and my worth as a female was tied to my ability to marry a handsome groom and that ability was tied to my skin color. Well meaning relatives gently suggested various natural remedies to lighten my skin since my teen years to prepare me to become a “suitable bride”. My mother was disappointed in my skin color and blamed herself for not heeding her mother’s advice to eat saffron when she was pregnant with me so that I would be born fair. The regional film industry (Tollywood) of my state (Andhra Pradesh) imported lighter skinned women from the north of India to play almost all the lead actress roles even as actresses born in my state protested against color discrimination. 

There was no popular counter-narrative to colorism in India’s media until the Dark is Beautiful campaign was launched. The campaign was the first time I heard a voice in support of people with my skin color. The thought of my skin color being beautiful was alien to me. It took me a while to re-orient my perspective of myself in the US. (I still struggle to understand America's obsession with tanned skin and it's appreciation of my exoticness.) The individual impact of this one counter-narrative on my family's perception of fairness was negligible. And I imagine so was the case for many other women from my country.

The reading on "Reversing the Placebo" was enlightening to me. This is the first time I truly considered the scale of influence brands have on consumers' lives when they take on the "brand as a master" role. Fair & Lovely in endorsing its product as increasing one's confidence became the master of young Indian minds. As a former 2 month long user of Fair & Lovely, I can attest to the fact that it did not change my skin color nor did it affect my confidence (it had a strong floral smell that I loved though!) but for those unfortunate enough to believe in its efficacy, I can imagine how it pulled them into a negative loop of continuously applying the cream, not seeing results, being disappointed in themselves (and their ability) and buying more cream in an attempt to solve the problem. Brands which become masters hold immense power in not just shaping the consumers' minds but also in perpetuating negative stereotypes that adversely affect its consumers. While the effect may not be uncovered in a short period of time, the brand remains susceptible to attacks and of late, the number of such attacks have been increasing. An example close to home that comes to my mind is the decline in popularity of Victoria's Secret and the increasing recognition for more inclusive brands such as Rihanna's Savage X Fenty. Brands nowadays have a greater need to focus on inclusivity- if not because it's the right thing to do then at least because it affects their financial well-being i.e. it's the smart thing to do.

A few global brands are already using their creative horsepower to cash in on the changing narrative around Colorism. I talk about two such examples here:

The first and my absolute favourite is Nike's rap song "Da Da Ding" (link below) launched in 2016 and created by W+K Delhi, the agency behind Nike's best ads. I first saw this when I was working at a Goldman Sachs and it was played at a monthly townhall to celebrate sportswomen spirit and fierceness. This ad features some of India’s top female athletes including Deepika Padukone, a famous badminton player turned Bollywood actress, in their natural skin tones.

While the focus of the rap song is on the struggle, inner power and fierceness Indian sportswomen have, the specific lyrical segment "playing coz I ain't worried about getting a tan, I'm still just as beautiful, man" sticks out to me in this context. So powerful was the impact of this song in its early days, that it became the personal anthem for me and several women around me in our daily exercise routines. I still play it on lazy days to get me out of my bed and on loop in my morning runs. It was (and perhaps is) my ex-roommate's mobile ringtone.

The second and the more fun yet fierce example is the dynamic duo of Kate & Edwina Sharma- the two dark skinned Indian women who play lead roles in Bridgerton season 2- Netflix’s Regency Era period drama. Though it may not be entirely attributed to the specific issue of Colorism, it is interesting to note that season 2 surpassed season 1 on the Most Popular list in Netflix's weekly rankings report as of Apr 19, 2022.

All in all, my learning from the reading is that performance brands as experiences need to appreciate the power they hold in the brand as master relationships and tread carefully along with the changing narrative of the world today. With great power comes great responsibility and even greater risk.

undefined

[allari-ammayi]

Butta Bomma

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬➜

When bookworm Y/n reluctantly succumbs to her friends' movie night and watches "Bahubali," she discovers a newfound empathy for the much-despised Bhallaladeva, igniting an unexpected connection between their souls. Following the loss of her grandmother, Y/n inherits a mysterious red amulet that transports her to an unimaginable world. Her assigned mission: to alter the destinies of her beloved character. In the heart of Mahismati, Y/n's undercover adventures bring her closer to the royal brothers, determined to reshape their fates for the better. As bonds deepen, romance blooms and Y/n faces a dilemma: will their feelings jeopardize her mission? Will it even matter in the end?

𝐓.𝐖➜

This story contains themes of death and bereavement, violence, toxic relationships, emotional turmoil, travelling worlds, ¿isekai?, romantic conflicts, identity crisis, moral dilemmas, possible sexual content in later chapters, themes of betrayal, political intrigue, power struggles, intense emotional situations, and complex moral decisions, exploration of familial and romantic relationships, warfare, injury, and graphic violence. Let me know if I missed any!

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟏

𝐏𝐫𝐞-𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞➜

The Interesting Perspective

The New World

The Angel Lady

The Harsh Interrogation

The Monkey Woman

The Snarky Prince

The Etiquette Lessons

The Language Barrier

The Political Genius

The Mahismati Festival

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟐

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 ⌗𝟏➜

The Scripted Starting

The Dancing Beauty

The Affectionate Prince

The Gruesome Battle

The Vitory Horror

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟑

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 ⌗𝟐➜

The Dangerous Thoughts

The Kuntala Quest

The Royal Gardens

The Deciding Day

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟒

𝐁𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢'𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞➜

The Kuntala Journey

The Charming Princess

The Kuntala Palace

The Dreamer Boy

The Hunting Party

The Krishna Pooja

The Marriage Proposal

The Silent Attack

The Lady’s Choice

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Rejoiced Couple

The Wedding Night

The Jealous Banishment

The Back-Stabber

The Final Sob

The Honoured Dead

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Stubborn Prince

The Jealous Husband

The Painful Coronation

The Run-Away Wife

The Reunited Lovers

The Old Beginnings

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟓

𝐁𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐚'𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞➜

The Library Roaming

The Compensating Gifts

The Hidden Portrait

The Risky Plan

The Portrait Showing

The Insistent Girl

The False Confession

The Impulsive Promise

The King’s Confession

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Defeated King

The Heart Problems

The Exiled Duo

The Discontent Girl

The Confidential News

The Sweet Embrace

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Impressive Queen

The Romantic King

The Revealed Secret

The Destroyed Amulet

The Two-Faced Liar

The Tragic End

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭➜ @vellipo-mellaga , @mellaga-karagani @bhalare-vichitram , @ghal-ghal , @bitchy-bi-trash @vijayasena , @celestesinsight @houseofbreadpakoda @slutdreams @eclecticprincecollector @a-goblin-named-cherry @signed-manny @angstylittleb1tch @tulipmagnoliaisme @jkdaddy01 @channniesslefttt @toomanyfanficsbruh @reebibii @outofst1le @goldenharrysworld @warnermeadowsgirl

《If you wish to be part of the taglist, please let me know in the replies!》

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞➜

This story contains elements of fantasy, adventure, and emotional depth, but be aware of potential triggers, including violence, grief, and complex relationships. Reader discretion is advised.

Does anyone want an OC version if they're not interested in y/n?

[allari-ammayi]

When r u going to post another chapter of butta bomma?? I just read it and I'm hooked... If possible please add me to the taglist 🥺

Hii!! Of course, I'm so glad you enjoy my work!! I was actually kind of busy with school, but I'll try to upload a little more often since I'm back now! ALSO, WE'RE SO CLOSE TO THE EVENTS OF THE FIRST MOVIE!?! AHH, I'M SO EXCITED!!! (Also, this casually might be the best chapter I've ever written)

Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

#8

The Language Barrier

Synopsis: In which several misunderstandings lead to Bahubali realising that Y/n clearly needs help with understanding the Mahismathi language, so being the chivalrous person he is, he offers Y/n to appoint a language tutor for her. When Y/n finds out who her language tutor is, her life falls downhill.

10.2k Words (Buckle in)

Prev || All || Next

It was a mahimahi afternoon like any other, and as usual, everyone was indoors, busy with duties or school, which meant no one had any time to entertain the dutiless Y/n. Y/n strolled through the palace courtyard, the warmth of the sun kissing her skin as she scanned her surroundings. 

A bored sigh escaped her lips as she searched for something, anything, to alleviate her boredom. Then, like a beacon of hope, the corner of her eye spotted something far too familiar to her. Something that had gotten her in quite the mischief and trouble with the elder prince of Mahismati. 

A fruit-laden tree standing proudly in the corner of the courtyard was practically singing temptations to Y/n, telling her to approach it. No one was around, though it didn’t matter even if they were, Y/n didn't mind.

It was Bhallaladeva who tortured her and Y/n couldn’t see him anywhere, which she confirmed with a smirk. Probably busy pouring his privilege over some poor servants, Y/n thought. 

With a mischievous glint in her eye, she swiftly tucked the end of her half-saree into her waist and began her ascent up the tree. 

As Y/n reached for the fruit, stepping onto a branch and grabbing another for support, Bhallaladeva happened to be passing by. Deep in thought, Bhalla was walking to his royal chambers on a higher floor, quite fast-paced, when he caught sight of Y/n perched in the tree. 

Bhalla was so lost in thought, that he had dismissed it as something normal, even though it was, but his mind quickly snapped back into place and he gasped before he did a lighting of a double-take. 

He backtracked and leaned over the balcony railing, dumbfounded by the sight before him. His brows furrowed at the girl who had the end of her tongue sticking out as she tried to reach some fruit, and he thought to himself, ‘What the hell is this monkey doing now?!’

"What in the world are you doing up there!?" Bhalla shouted down to her, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

Y/n shot her face up and startled by the sudden appearance of the one person who she hoped wouldn’t catch her like this, she nearly lost grip on the branch and balance on her foot for a moment, before regaining her posture. 

Bhalla's momentary panic prompted an instinctual reaction, his hand reaching out down towards, without him even realising it before quickly retracting. Bhalla was far too high to do anything. Bhalla’s eyes were wide and a relieved sigh escaped his lips, his fleeting sense of relief washed over him when Y/n steadied herself, but it was quickly replaced by irritation at her recklessness.

"For a monkey, you have horrible tree-climbing skills, you know!" he scowled, his frustration evident in his tone.

Y/n bristled at his insult, her own temper flaring in response. "It's none of your business what I'm doing up here!" she shot back, her voice tinged with defiance.

"What do you mean? I saw you climbing the tree like a lunatic!" Bhalla retorted, his frustration mounting at Y/n’s audacity, 

Y/n was confused by his anger. Not even Bhalla realised how frustrated he was. It hadn’t even occurred to him how worried he was for some fruit-obsessed monkey. 

Y/n glared up at him, “As I said, your royal snarkiness, none of your business!” Y/n sounded each of the last four words out and ended her retort with a bang. Bhalla could almost applaud her audacity. 

“Well, I’ll have you know, stranger from the ‘far land of Mexico’, As the elder Prince of Mahismathi, everything that happens within the kingdom’s walls is quite literally my business!” He shouted back down at her, gripping the railing of the balcony. 

Y/n ground her teeth in utter annoyance. Why did this prince have to constantly involve himself in everything Y/n-related!?

“Ugh!” Y/n exclaimed, balling her free hand into a fist, “This doesn’t even concern you, you nosy prince!” Bhalla was quite taken aback when he heard this. His brows furrowed and his lips parted. 

“Nosy?” Bhalla muttered to himself, “What the hell did she mean ‘Nosy’? Me - Nosy?” Bhalla rubbed his nose absent-mindedly, assuming Y/n had insulted his nose. Bhalla, confused, questioned for a moment whether Y/n’s monkey brain was causing her blindness.

“I think you’d be delighted to know Monkey, that I am considered, if not,” Bhalla shouted, “One of Mahismathi’s most handsome men with a perfectly sculpted nose!” Y/n looked at Bhalla like he was an idiot, a mild hint of confusion crossed her face at Bhalla’s strange response.

“What is this man-whore even on about?” She muttered to herself, Bhalla leaned down the balcony to signal to Y/n that he didn’t hear what she said, Confusion clouded Bhalla's features as he struggled to make sense of Y/n’s words.

“That’s great to know Your Highness, be sure to tell that to the next person you’re off to torture, however, it does nothing to help the situation at hand!” She shouted back, her throat starting to hurt with the shouting she had to do to keep the conversation.

“What?” Bhalla shouted,

“I said, you royal-!” Y/n, a little too passionate about what she was going to say, had paid no mind to which branch she grabbed, and rather than grabbing the one that would prevent her demise, Y/n put her weight onto the twig-like branch. 

“Hey-!” Bhalla tried to call out her stupid move, reaching his hand far out, but it was too late. The twig snapped with a horrifying sound and with Y/n putting her weight on it, her leg slipped. Bhalla’s heart practically stopped, his eyes were wide in horror and he was not breathing, but instead, staring in terror. 

But Y/n was a smart young girl, very capable of tree-climbing. Before she could fall to her potential death, her reflexes caused her to grab hold of the branch she had slipped from. 

Y/n was hanging for her life and with one quick swing, she was back on her feet, on the branch. Bhalla felt his heart alleviate as he placed a hand on his extremely fast-beating heart. His eyes closed in relief as a relieved sigh escaped him.

“As I was saying-” Y/n began, putting a finger up, but before she could say another word, Bhalla had silenced her with the look on his face. 

Y/n could feel his anger in the form of heat all the way down from where she was. Bhalla said nothing, but simply pointed down, instructing her to immediately get off the tree. Y/n frowned.

“What!? Why?” Y/n attempted to retort, but Bhalla was having none of it, his hands balled into fists and in a heavy authority manner, pointed to the sky and in a powerful voice said,

“As the elder prince of Mahismathi, I command you to step down now!” Y/n glared.

“No.” She spat, quietly like a stubborn child, but Bhalla heard exactly what she said. 

“Y/n of the far land of Mexico, I swear to god, the sky, the very earth of this kingdom which I will soon rule and all that is holy, if you don’t step down from the tree right now, I will do something that will make you regret having ever climbed that tree,” This sent a shiver through Y/n’s spine and she grinned.

“Oh yeah, What exactly is it you’ll do Your Highness?” She smirked. Bhalla expression of pure anger dissolved into a cruel and evil smirk, shivering Y/n to her bone. Bhalla’s smirk was dangerous.

“I’ll have this and every other mango tree in Mahishmati cut down immediately.” Bhalla said victoriously, “Fruits can be grown of course, outside of kingdom walls, where you’ll never be able to reach them.” 

Bhalla’s grin widened when Y/n gulped and immediately began her descent from the tree. He placed his elbows on the railing as he watched Y/n descend, his grin growing wider at the silly girl. When Y/n reached the ground, Bhalla smirked and began walking away without another word, except for one final warning, 

“And if you ever decide to climb another tree when there’s no one around, I hope you’re ready to bid goodbye to them all together!” He shouted loud enough for her to hear, not turning back and simply walking straight ahead. Y/n watched Bhalla’s retreating figure and glared, her brows furrowing and the frustration and heat in her body increased. As Bhalla left, Y/n stuck her tongue out at him and poked faces at him. Bhalla smiled to himself, knowing exactly what Y/n was doing, despite not even being able to see her. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Erm, that’s very interesting, Bahu, do tell more…” Y/n pathetically muttered. She and Gowri were on a walk when Y/n was noticed by Bahubali who had approached her for a chat. 

Their initial greetings and formalities quickly made way for Bahu's long talks about Mahimsathi’s politics. All it took was for Y/n to ask Bahu how he was doing, for him to say, tired, and for Y/n to ask, oh no, why so? 

That was all it took for Bahu to begin his long complex talk about Mahismati’s political structure and his duties as prince. Bahu was talking way too quickly, using words Y/n had never even heard of that surely didn’t exist where she came from, rambling about politics. 

“And of course, you’d know the grand chancellor, one of the few who stood by Queen Mother when she first ascended the throne. I’d assumed he would stand by the new act that stated the opposite of what we have been following as a kingdom for over sixty years, despite how horrible it was, but he instead stood against it. 

He claimed that it was practically a tradition, but what does he know, that old nut. I reckon he only stood by Queen Mother, fearing death.” Baahubali rambled, so fast, so quick, so complex, Y/n was lucky if she caught one or maybe even two words of what he was saying. She was simply laughing nervously and nodding, hoping that he wasn’t asking her any questions. 

“Haha, yeah, yeah, true that,” Y/n muttered, her jaw starting to hurt from the way she was smiling so widely. 

“But of course, you agree with me, the grand chancellor was even against keeping you here, stating you could’ve been a foreign imposter, trying to get into our secrets and then backstab us. But you’re lucky that no one stood by him on that one or they would’ve voted to have you killed. Took a lot of convincing but he relented to letting you stay, but you’re a lucky one, the majority was quite all right with you staying, but to be honest, they also thought you were some kind of holy angel sent by the gods to save you and to have you tried or to even suspect you of misdeed would be a horrible sin. It’s actually kind of funny, but you do of course look like angels so I wouldn’t blame them too much,” Bahu gave a little shy laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from Y/n, a slight pink tinge appearing on him. Y/n simply smiled and nodded.

‘Just smile and nod,’ Y/n thought, ‘Smile and nod.’ 

“And later today, you have a meeting with the council, your Highness, and following that-” As Y/n and Bahu were engaged in their conversation, a certain other royal happened to walk by them in the balcony opposite them. 

Bhalla, who had a dozen servants following behind him, informing him of his schedule for the day was walking close by. The servant struggled to keep up with Bhalla’s fast pace but when Bhalla noticed a certain mischief-maker from the corner of his eye, he looked in Y/n’s direction and found a monkey. 

He grinned, ready to throw a casual snarky remark her way when he noticed Bahubali and her engaged in a conversation. Bhalla grimaced but when he saw the awkward and nervous look on Y/n’s face and her obvious look of struggle, Bhalla raised an eyebrow, a look of mild confusion glazing over his features. 

At once, he raised a hand, signalling for the servants to keep quiet for a moment. The servants, instantly understanding, immediately shut up and stepped back when Bhalla motioned for them to leave with a wave of his hand. The servants immediately left after handing Bhalla a scroll of his lined-up events that he held his hand out for. 

Bhalla narrowed his eyes in an attempt to make out what was happening as he opened the scroll and held it up in front of his face to hide him from his brother’s and Y/n’s view. He occasionally took peeks from the side or the top of the scroll, attempting to unpuzzle the look on Y/n’s face. 

“But as I was saying, I’m starting to think it’s about time that the chancellor retired and spent time with his grandkids rather than trying to protect the ‘traditions’ of Mahismathi. But it’s good to know not a lot of people support him anymore. He used to have a whole horde of people who had his back, but, you know, as people age, they start to lose support. It’s normal, but of course, you would know all this, am I right, being from such a small kingdom that there’s barely any texts or information about ‘the far land of Mexico’? Speaking of which, I’d love to visit the far land of Mexico one of these days, it seems like a wonderful place if someone like you is from it. When do you reckon is the best time for me to go?” Bahu asked and Y/n smiled, laughed and nodded. 

“Ha ha… Yeah… Of course, yes…” Bahu raised an eyebrow.

“So…?” He asked, tilting his head, “Are you going to answer me or what?” He laughed. Y/n gulped, her worst fears came to life and he did ask a question. Y/n’s brows furrowed and her eyes ran across the room,

“Erm… That sounds very interesting, Bahu, I’m sure Mahismati politics are very tiring.” Y/n answered plainly like a machine, hoping her extremely plain and neutral tone somehow managed to answer Bahu’s question. Bahu’s confused look had instantly dissolved, only to be replaced by an understanding grin. 

Bahu had Y/n figured out. He’d suspected something like this from the start, but only now was his theory confirmed.

There had to be some kind of slight language barrier between him and Y/n. Between Y/n and Mahismathi. That’s why there had always been a slight struggle to help Y/n fit into Mahisamthi. How could she fit in if she didn’t even know how to fully communicate with others? 

Bhalla, who had been watching this whole situation unfold, also instantly understood Y/n’s situation. But rather than a caring grin appearing on his face like Bahu’s, a much more evil and cruel smirk began to form. 

Oh, he was going to have a blast. Bhalla sniggered to himself but when Y/n’s eyes flew over to where Bhalla stood, Bhalla shot to the side to hide himself behind a pillar. When Y/n looked back at a smiling Bahu, Bhalla turned back and with a plan in his head, left the two. 

Following Bhalla’s departure, Bahu, not wanting to stress the nervous Y/n out, moved the conversation to something she could easily talk to him about, making sure Y/n didn’t realise what he was doing. 

Bahu, like Bhalla, also had a plan in his mind. The only difference was, was that the elder prince planned to endlessly tease the poor girl about her language skills, while the younger planned to summon a literacy tutor for Y/n sometime. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As Y/n did when she had nothing better to do, which was most of the time, she sat by the pond, cutting a mango for herself. She admired the pond’s surface and its fish, peace filling her up until she heard a certain agonising voice. 

“Quite the pond, eh, Monkey?” Y/n suppressed a groan but allowed herself to roll her eyes, her peaceful state instantly being replaced by one of annoyance.

“Yes, it’s definitely a pond, your snarkiness, 10 points for your observation skills,” Y/n muttered. Bhalla neared and leaned his shoulder against the large rock that Y/n sat by, as he folded his arms and slightly crossed his legs, standing.

“Quite truly I must say, this is probably one of the most stunning ponds on the palace grounds, truly serene and so beautifully formed, like the eye of a jewel, something like the art of work you would expect from a mastermind like Vishwakarma. Personally, I truly enjoy his works,” 

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. What was Bhalla talking about? Why was he talking like this? So fast and with words Y/n had never heard of. Bhalla, as Y/n had observed through her stay and from watching Bahubali movies, was a person who took his time to get his point across. 

“Tell me, stranger from ‘the far land of Mexico’, which of Vishwakarma’s works do you admire the most?” Bhalla grinned victoriously as Y/n stared at him, dumb-founded.

“W-What?” 

“Oh pardon my rudeness, I completely forgot to mention which Vishwakarma I was even conversing with you about. My tastes in architecture extend far beyond Mahismathi architects, to the points of heavenly ones, and when I mention Vishwakarma, I assure you, I meant the craftsman deity and the divine architect of the devas.” 

Y/n stared at him with a blank look. When Bhalla’s smirk grew, the realisation hit her like a meteor and she frowned. 

“Ha ha, very mature you snarkiness, mocking someone for simply not knowing a language.” Y/n rolled her eyes.

"Ah, the wit of a commoner. How refreshing.” Bhalla said, looking up at the sky, before looking back down at the girl, “Tell me, monkey, do you practice your sarcasm in front of the mirror every morning, or does it come naturally?"

"Why, thank you for noticing. I do take pride in my quick tongue. Can't say the same you would feel for your quick temper." She added, quietly. Bhalla gave a look of offence.

“Temper? I'll have you know, Monkey, I'm as cool as a cucumber compared to the hot-headed peasants I deal with on a daily basis."

"Oh, I'm sure. But let's not pretend you're not just a spoiled prince who's used to getting his way." She seethed.

"Spoiled?” Bhalla gave a hollow laugh, “Hardly. I've had to fight tooth and nail for everything I have. Can't say the same for someone who spends her days lounging by a pond, cutting mangoes." Y/n gaped at his audacity, her patience having run dry.

“Well, at least I'm not using my power to intimidate foreigners with my language. Can't say the same for you, can we?!” 

With that final bang, Y/n shot up from her spot, and gave one final annoyed glance to Bhalla, before storming away. Bhalla stared at her retreating figure and gave a soundless, light chuckle.

Blinded by her own fury, it didn’t take Y/n long before she bumped head-first into the younger prince. 

Bahubali caught her by the arm and gently helped her back onto her feet. 

“Oh, hi Bahu…” Y/n greeted awkwardly with a nervous chuckle. Bahu grinned.

“What seems to be the matter, Y/n you seem a lot more on on fire today than usual,” Bahu gave a light chuckle.

Y/n fidgeted with her half-sari and glanced around to make sure no one was around, before looking back up at him.

“You see, it's just that…” Y/n gulped, and Bahu leaned in closer, “I just have a bit of trouble with communication here. The way I spoke back in my time- I mean–! Back in my kingdom is pretty different to how people speak in Mahismathi.” Bahu nodded along, understandingly,

“I see,” He urged her to go on,

“And someone seems to have understood that, and now won’t stop mocking me for it,” Y/n said, annoyed at just the thought of Bhalla. Bahu smiled.

“I see Bhalla has also figured out your language barrier,” Bahu said, thoughtfully. Y/n went red in the face,

“You mean-!?”

“Well,” Bahu gave a sigh, “it’s not the most unobvious thing in the world. I actually only figured it out this morning.” Y/n, still red in the face, threw her face into her hands out of embarrassment. “Oh, Y/n,” Bahu gave her a calming rub on her back,

Y/n looked up at Bahu,

“How about I arrange a language tutor for you?” Bahu suggested, and Y/n’s eyes went wide. She remembered her etiquette tutor that Bhalla had arranged for her and she shook her head like her world depended on it, her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Respectfully, absolutely not.” Y/n said, adamant. 

Bahu’s eyes softened, “I promise I’ll pick out someone who’s truly willing to get on level with you.” He said sweetly looking down at Y/n with such caring eyes that made her swear she could have swooned. Bahu’s eyes brought her way back to when she watched Varsham for the first time.

Y/n gave a nervous and hollow chuckle, “A-Alright, Bahu, if you say so.” As much as she tried to avoid eye contact with the Prince, she simply could not look away from his eyes. The same eyes that had all the ladies in the nation in a chokehold for almost two decades.

“Brilliant, I’ll have someone- top of the class- picked out for you, and you can begin your tutoring as soon as this weekend!” He announced joyously.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"Ah, if it isn't the wandering scholar from 'Mexico.' How fares your study of our culture, Monkey?" Y/n spun around on her heel to face the one person whom she was most delighted to meet. 

"Quite well, your royal snarkiness. I've learned a lot, especially about how not to treat people." Y/n said, her voice flowing with glee over the aspect that soon, she would start attending language classes and eventually wouldn’t be the object of Bhalla's ridicule.

"Oh, delightful. In that case, allow me to expand your knowledge further.” Bhalla grinned, "Indeed, one must ponder the intricate complexities and unparalleled magnificence of this realm’s architectural splendour, meticulously crafted by hands of exceptional prowess and minds of unparalleled brilliance. Perchance, your intellectual faculties may find themselves inadequate in grasping such sublime intricacies."

Y/n narrowed her eyes in frustration, "Are you serious? Again with the fast-talking? Very mature, Bhalla."

“What's the matter? I thought you were here to learn. Surely a scholar like you can keep up." He smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

Y/n groaned, "I'm here to learn, not to decipher your verbal puzzles. But I suppose that's too much to expect from someone who takes pleasure in mocking others."

Bhalla smiled, mockingly, "Mocking? Oh no, this is merely a lesson. Think of it as... advanced study."

Y/n narrowed her eyes in mock confusion, "Advanced study? More like a desperate attempt to show off. What's wrong, Bhalla? Need to feel superior to someone?"

"Superior? Hardly. Just demonstrating the vast chasm between our respective eruditions. But don’t worry, Monkey, you’ll bridge it. Eventually."

"The only chasm here is the one in your manners. But I suppose that's too much to ask from a prince who's used to getting his way."

"Ah, so quick with the barbs. Maybe there's hope for you yet. But tell me, how does it feel to be out of your depth?" Bhalla leaned down a little to get on level and face to face with Y/n, who narrowed her eyes,

“Out of my depth? Please. I've handled more complex things than your inflated ego."

"Ego? It’s not ego if it’s justified. But I understand if it's hard for you to grasp that, given your… limited experience." Bhalla said with a tone of judginess, eying Y/n up and down.

"Limited experience? Says the man who’s spent his life behind palace walls. Try stepping out into the real world for a change."

"The real world? I’ve seen more of it than you ever will, Monkey. But don’t worry, I’m sure your books will keep you company." Bhalla said pathetically, in a pitiful tone, riling Y/n up even more.

"Better books than the company of a conceited prince. At least books don't talk back with meaningless drivel."

"Meaningless drivel? Perhaps to you. To those who understand, it's wisdom. But you’ll get there. One day."

"I’ll pass, thanks. I prefer my wisdom to come without the side of arrogance." She said with a huff.

"Call it confidence. But I forget, you're not used to dealing with people of my stature."

"And you're not used to dealing with people who see through your facade. But don't worry, I’ll be here to remind you." Y/n gave a caring smile, dripping with sarcasm.

"I look forward to it, Monkey. Your attempts at wit are... entertaining if nothing else."

"Glad to be of service, your royal snarkiness. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than waste my time with a pompous prince." Before Y/n could leave, she turned to face Bhalla one last time, the enthusiasm back in her eyes, “Besides, your royal snarkiness, I suggest you enjoy mocking my tongue while it lasts.” Yn/ said victoriously, before leaving. Bhalla stared at her, confusion gripping him.

“What?” He asked himself, “Monkey! Get back here at once and explain what you mean!” He shouted, but Y/n, too far to care, went her way.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Ah, Bhalla, there you are,” Bahu called to his cousin, Bhalla, who had arrived at the training area, following his confused exchange with Y/n.

“Bahubali.” Bhalla greeted, his mind still straying to the thought of what Y/n might’ve meant.

“I see you’re a bit distracted today,” Bahubali questioned when the duo began their swordplay. Bhalla wasn’t as sharp that day, his moves were slower, and he was clearly distracted by something. 

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Bhalla said, looking over at Y/n in the distance who was happily chatting away with her friends while eating fruit. 

“Care to share why, Your Highness?” Bahubali asked with a grin, as he let out a groan, successfully hitting Bhalla’s sword to the point of his defeat.

Bhalla picked up his sword and stepped towards Bahubali, who listened kenly,

“Do you know what’s going on with that monkey today?” Bhalla asked, directing his gaze towards the bubbly Y/n. Bahubali followed Bhalla’s gaze until his eyes landed on Y/n. 

“Oh, Y/n.” Bahu said, 

“Yeah- That- That girl. Y/n monkey or l/n or whatever. Do you what’s gotten into her today?” Bhalla asked, his patience a little more dry than usual. Bauhbali looked at Bhalla, smiling,

“Ah, I see she’s mentioned it to you. She’s definitely a little more happy today because of it, huh?” Bhalla’s eyes shot to Bahu as they returned to their sparring positions, starting another round of swordplay.

“Mentioned what?” Bhalla asked, his usual sparing skills faltering.

“I’ve arranged a literature tutor for her, to help her learn our language better after I saw how distressed she was at not being able to fit in.” With what Bahu said, Bhalla’s sword move failed, causing Bahu to effortlessly win another round.

“What??” Bhalla narrowed his eyes in confusion.

At the very lowest pit of Bhalla’s stomach, a weird feeling began brewing. A strange feeling, that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was frustration, Bhalla thought. But why? He doesn’t know. 

Why was he feeling frustrated that Bahubali had arranged Y/n's language tutoring lesson without him knowing and that Y/n seemingly was able to confide in Bahu about her troubles and not Bhalla when in reality none of this concerned him and it was none of his business? Especially when considering that Bhalla tended to be the root of most of Y/n’s problems. 

But Bhalla still felt frustrated. He didn’t even know why. 

Any normal person could have immediately figured out that it could even possibly be... Slight jealousy? But Bhalla was not a normal person. 

Was he frustrated that Y/n felt she could confide about her language issues in Bahu and not him? And how she seemingly instantly accepted help when Bahu offered and how Bahu took it upon himself to offer her the classes.

Bhalla, overcome with this unknown emotion, looked back at Bahu and said, “That monkey doesn’t need a tutor,” 

Bhalla didn’t even know why he was interfering in this matter, which didn’t even affect him. But he couldn’t help it. Bahubali’s eyebrows furrowed lightly.

“What’s wrong bhalla?” Bahu asked, “Besides, how will Y/n ever blend in if she doesn’t even speak the tongue?”

Bhalla, in a fit of ‘frustration’ and impatience, proceeded to say something so impulsively, that it hadn’t even registered in his head.

“Whatever, I’ll take it upon myself to teach her, alright!?”

Bhalla hadn’t even realised what he said till a smile grew on Bahubali’s face.

“Even better. I promised Y/n I would get her someone who could get on level with her.” Bahubali said, “If you will excuse me, brother, I must go and inform the tutor that he need not teach Y/n anymore.”

As Bhalla observed Bau’s leaving figure, he finally understood what he said, his eyes wide. 

‘Oh my god, what the hell did I just do’ Bhalla thought, face-palming.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

And so, for the week that followed, Y/n wasted not a single chance to flaunt to Bhalla that soon, she would also be on his level in terms of language. Her lessons were the only thing she could think about as her brain overflowed his excitement and anticipation. 

Bhalla on the other hand, didn’t know whether to laugh or sob, because only he and Bahu knew that he was the ill-fated person to teach Y/n the ways of the Mahismathi tongue. 

Y/n, however, had no clue who her teacher was. Bahubali, during another encounter with Y/n, did mention to her that someone else had volunteered to tutor her. Someone very highly prestigious and even overqualified. The news filled Y/n with so much joy that she wrapped her arms around Bahubali, giving him a very sweet goodbye as he left on a mission that Sivagami assigned him to.

Y/n was overjoyed and didn't shy away from any opportunity to rub it into Bhalla’s face, unknown to her that this ‘Overqualified, and highly prestigious’ person was the last person she wanted to see.

So on the fated day of Y/n’s first class, she excitedly hopped to the grand palace library.

The library, usually full of hustle and bustle with scholars and such running around, being pitch quiet should’ve been her first red sign. But Y/n went on, her determination unmatched. She tip-toed inside the empty library and ventured far deep in, hoping to find her tutor. Y/n looked around the empty and somewhat eerie library when she felt something smack her on the back of her head from behind. 

“Ow!” Y/n turned around, and when she did, she wished she hadn’t. There stood, the last person she wanted to see. 

Bhallaladeva. The elder son of the queen of Mahismathi Sivagami Devi, and the only son of Bijjaladevi. 

Y/n’s eyes went wide when she saw Bhallaladeva stand there, unpleasantly grumpy as he crossed his arms.

“What’re you doing here?” She bitterly spat, 

Bhallaladeva eyed her, “This happens to be my family library, so I could dance here if I wanted to.” He said, just as bitterly. 

Y/n, sensing the oncoming verbal sparring between her and Bhalla, quickly dismissed him, not wanting to waste her time, “Whatever, your snarkiness, I have better things to be doing right now like finding my tutor,” She said, grumpily.

Before she could huff and stomp away, Bhallaladeva, in a dead and annoyed voice said,

“The tragic fate of being your tutor, monkey, is unfortunately my own.”

“What??” Y/n turned around, her eyes narrowing in both confusion and annoyance at Bhalla’s use of the ancient tongue.

“Oh right, you’re an idiot.” Bhalla said, “What I meant to say, monkey, is that the unlucky man who’s your tutor? That’s me.”

Y/n’s mouth fell open at once and all that dread she couldn’t even comprehend came flooding back.

“WHAT!?” She screamed at once, her mind too occupied to give any mind to being quiet. Bhalla stared at her, unimpressed, “You’re the over-qualified, prestigious, highly-exclusive volunteer who never gives anyone lessons?” Bhalla sighed,

“Well, what do you expect? I’m the elder prince for goodness sake. I received the highest quality of education and clearly, one on this planet is boss enough to be tutored by the prince.” He said, before eyeing the furious Y/n with boredom, “Well, clearly except you of course. Congratulations, monkey, how do you feel, being the first person ever to have the prince spend his precious hours teaching you language?” 

“It feels bloody awful!” Y/n seethed, her anger now replacing her excitement.

“Same here,” Bhalla said quietly, annoyed. Y/n spun on her heel at once and headed back to the front of the library, “Oi monkey, where’re you going??”

Y/n spun back to face Bhalla briefly, “If you must know, I’m going to visit Bahubali, and tell him that I will NOT have you as my tutor and that I’d be willing to be tutored by literally any other living being in this kingdom than you!” She shouted.

Bhalla grimaced, “I expect you’ll have some trouble with that considering now that Bahubali has been sent on a quest to a different region,” Y/n’s frown fell and she remembered Bahubali telling her about his mission.

“So what does that mean,” Y/n said in a breathless voice.

“That, monkey, means either you wait a month for him to return, which you clearly seem incapable of, or you’re stuck with me for two weeks,” Bhalla said, almost somewhat enjoying Y/n’s suffering.

Y/n rolled her eyes and groaned, “Please just end my misery,” she said pathetically as she smacked her forehead, walking towards a table near the back of the library.

Bhalla grinned as he watched her go, “This’ll be fun.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

And so began Y/n’s lessons with Bhallaladeva. To say Bhalla was a strict teacher was a heavy understatement. Bhalla’s teaching methods made Y/n’s old etiquette teacher look easygoing. Bhalla forced Y/n to be up and at it by four in the morning, and only let her go to bed at eleven, under the condition that she had finished her work. The only breaks she would receive were thirty minutes every three hours, and breakfast, lunch and dinner were all also served in the library. 

Bhalla always spoke too fast and preferred to teach by pacing around with a textbook in one hand and the other hand behind his back, often causing Y/n to not understand a single thing, resulting in her struggling to focus and badly failing every simple assignment. 

Yes, Bhala always did get on Y/n’s bad side but this was a whole new level. Y/n had never seen such a strict and focused side to Bhalla unless he was training. Yes, that’s what he reminded her of. Him when he was training. He was so concentrated and fast, that at some point Y/n simply gave up. 

Near the end of the first week of their lessons, following Y/n’s silent defeat in making an attempt to understand anything, the severe lack of sleep finally caught up to her. 

As usual, Bhalla walked back and forth, reading from a textbook as he lectured Y/n- except that’s what he thought was happening. Y/n, however, had long gone asleep. Y/n’s only justifications were that:

a.) Bhallaladeva was insane

b.) Sleeping for only four to five hours a night for a week ought to make anyone fall asleep mid-day

c.) Bhallaladeva was insane

d.) Her tutor didn’t even teach properly.

e.) Bhallaladeva was insane

f.) Having nothing truly stimulating was of course going to make her fall asleep.

Also, Bhallaladeva was insane.

But Y/n was a smart girl, if she was going to break rules and casually fall asleep in class, she had to do it the right way. She positioned herself in a perfect form that made her look like she was crouched over writing when in reality she was fast asleep. 

Bhallaladeva, who was too busy reading off of scrolls, hadn’t noticed for the first thirty minutes of Y/n falling asleep, but when almost an hour had passed, and Y/n made no effort to make any snarky remark, sarcastic sentence or a single annoyed groan, Bhalla grew suspicious.

“I’m surprised you’ve been able to go an hour without a single jab, monkey. Impressive.” Bhalla said, standing in front of Y/n, authoritatively. When Y/n failed to respond, owing to the fact that she was strolling somewhere in dreamland, Bhalla raised an eyebrow.

“Really? No sarcastic retort?” He questioned her, but when Y/n kept her potion the same, Bhalla felt something was off, “What’re you even writing with that amount of focus, I’m not even saying anything relevant for you to write?” 

Again, no response from Y/n. Bhalla’s brows furrowed and he used a rolled-up scroll to poke Y/n’s head. When nothing happened, he pushed a bit of her hair off her face and tucked it in behind her hair, and what he saw made his eyes go wide with shock.

That little monkey was asleep.

As annoyed as Bhalla was at her audacity, he couldn’t help a little smile that grew on his lips. Y/n’s face was so calm and serene, not many times before had he seen her face like that. Generally, when he did, it was because she hadn’t seen him. The only expressions Bhalla saw on Y/n when they talked were either annoyance or outright rage, but to be fair, he was the one who kept provoking the girl. It was a weird joy if you could call it even that. If even Bhalla knew why he kept poking and prodding her every day. Was it to get a reaction out of her? Perhaps because she was the only one who gave him that type of reaction. No one else in the kingdom would be daring enough to treat Bhalla the way Y/n treated him. 

Her breathing was so serene and her facial features were that of a rabbit. Bhalla’s finger, which was still behind Y/n’s ear from when he tucked her hair back, slid down her cheek slightly.

She sure had soft skin. Very… Very pretty. 

Bhalla smiled softly, without realising it. He was lost in the trance of Y/n’s sleeping face but was instantly brought back to earth with the flicker of a candle. Bhalla shot up straight and looked around, giving an awkward cough. He gulped and looked back at Y/n, a frown forming on his face.

Now what to do with this sleeping monkey? 

Bhall grinned, before reaching down to Y/n’s level. His lips hovered over her ear before he let out the scream of an army general entering battle.

“FIRE!!”

Y/n’s entire figure shook awake at once, startled. 

“FIRE!?” Her eyes were wide and she was covered in a cold sweat, her eyes prancing around, looking for the fire. When she failed to see a fire, she looked back at Bhalla, who had his arms crossed with a menacing look on his face, standing in front of her.

“Had a nice nap in the middle of my lecture, Monkey?” Bhalla said, sourly, “You know, many would kill to have the elder prince of Mahismathi give them free private literature lessons.” He said, narrowing his eyes at the girl who was trying to regain her breath.

Y/n looked back up at him, her eyes narrowed with annoyance leaking out of her every pore. 

Bhalla observed her face, the serenity he saw earlier was gone, replaced by the Y/n he constantly picked catfights with. 

“You say ‘elder prince of Mahismathi’ quite often, your royal snarkiness but you don’t seem to be showing it in actions, anywhere.” She spat,

"Is that so? Perhaps you’re too distracted by your penchant for daydreaming to notice my brilliance." Bhalla gloated,

Y/n stared at his audacity, "Brilliance? More like tediousness. Your lectures could put a hyperactive child to sleep."

"Ah, I see. The problem lies with my teaching style, not with the inattentive student who can’t keep her eyes open." Bhalla retorted,

"Maybe if you made your lessons half as interesting as you make your insults, I’d stay awake." Y/n jabbed back, her anger at Bhalla for the past week starting to rise up.

"Perhaps if you spent more time studying and less time devising retorts, you might actually learn something," Bhalla said with a roll of his eyes,

"Studying what? Your inflated ego?” Y/n said with narrowed eyes, and mock curiosity, “Sorry, I’m not interested in that subject."

"Inflated ego?” Bhalla said with a hollow laugh at Y/n’s audacity, “Coming from the girl who thinks she’s too good to have the prince as her tutor? That’s rich."

"I never asked for a prince.” Y/n seethed, “Especially not one who seems to enjoy tormenting his students."

"Torment? I’m merely trying to instil some discipline. Something you clearly lack."

"Discipline? More like sadism.” Y/n frowned, “Face it, Bhalla, you’re just taking pleasure in making my life difficult."

“And you, Monkey, are taking pleasure in defying me at every turn.” Bhalla said, “It’s almost endearing."

"You know what, you snarkiness, maybe the problem isn't with me at all.” Y/n stood up, her voice raising, “Maybe you're just a terrible teacher."

It was no longer harmless banter between the two. Tensions were rising neither of them was kidding around anymore.

"Oh really? And what would you know about teaching? You can barely keep your eyes open, let alone absorb any knowledge," Bhalla retorted, offended.

"Maybe if you weren't so full of yourself, I'd actually learn something!" Y/n said, leaning in.

"Full of myself? You think this is about me? It's about your lack of focus, your inability to grasp even the simplest concepts!" Bhalla said, frowning, also leaning in.

"I am focused!” Y/n admitted, “But it's hard to learn when all you do is belittle me!" 

"Belittle you? I'm trying to make you see how far behind you are! There are children who can do things you can't even comprehend!"

Y/n showed a tiny glint of hurt in her eyes, “That's not fair, Bhalla. I’m trying my best!" Her voice trembled with anger and hurt.

Bhalla’s voice raised till he was shouting, "Your best? Your best is pathetic! You’ll never succeed at this rate! You lack, focus, interest, determination, and brain, and at this very rate, you show no progress to achieve anything! I've wasted so many hours on you, watering the plant in your head so vigilantly, yet it shows no sign of growth!" His voice echoed through the library, instantly silencing Y/n, who stood there, too shocked for words.

Y/n stood there and stared at him with wide eyes, full of hurt and anger mixing in her expression as the silence filled the library. 

“Maybe the plant doesn’t grow because the soil is poisoned by your cruelty.” Y/n managed to say, in a quiet and trembling voice, as a tear dropped from her eye.

Y/n gathered her things at once and stormed out of the library as Bhallaladeva’s face contorted with a mix of slight regret and stubbornness, but he remained silent. 

He watched the girl race out of the library, the sound of her anklets echoing throughout the library, leaving an uneasy silence in her wake.

In a fit of humiliation, and dejectedness, Y/n ran to the one spot that gave her true peace.

The secluded pond. 

The afternoon sun was practically burning her skin off, but Y/n paid no mind, seeking shade under the oversized banana leaf that hung high over her usual sitting place.

She sat there, watching the ripples on the surface of the usually peaceful pond. The ripples practically reflected the inner turmoil she felt in her own heart. 

Silent, fat tears, dropped from her eyes, one by one as Y/n hugged her knees, leaning her shoulder against the giant rock that sat beside her. She cried softly, sniffling occasionally, watching as the tears that fell from her eyes created more ripples in the pond. 

The sun soon began to set, and the blue sky turned pink, but Y/n remained the same. 

She knew Bhalla was cruel, but she didn’t expect that he would have said something like that. She should have expected it, but she didn’t. Why? 

Soon, her tears came to an end when a wave of tiredness washed over her and her eyelids began to shut, feeling too heavy to keep them open. 

As the sun began to set in, so did Bhalla’s nervousness.

For as long as Y/n had been sitting by the pond, letting her tears soak into the water, Bhalla had been locked in his chamber, ordering no one to enter. Once the doors to his chambers shut, his frown dissolved and a smirk grew on his lips. 

He hummed a tune to himself as he made his way to his balcony. 

"This ought to help her." He said to himself with a grin, referring to his ‘outburst’ earlier. It hadn't yet occurred to Bhalla that using a strong Mahismathi military motivation tactic designed your emotionless old men on a young girl, foreign to Mahismatic and full of emotion, simply trying to learn a language might not have been the best idea. 

It worked wonders on the training grounds, so surely it ought to work just as well with her. Right? Bhalla's initial delight came to an all too sudden halt at that thought. It would work, right? 

And so, as Bhalla relaxed and laid back on his grand armchair on the balcony, munching away on an apple, he was once again in deep thought, a slight sense of doubt and nervousness began to grow at the deepest pit of his heart and brain. 

As the sun began setting, the initially slight sense of doubt and nervousness grew, eating him away, till he was back up on his feet, frantically pacing around his room, biting at his fingernails in tension. 

Bhalla was acting very strange and unlike himself. The elder prince of Mahismati who was known for his composure and having the ability to not tense over problems was now pacing back and forth around his room, biting his nails in worry about a simple girl. 

Something Bhalla would have never done if Y/n had never appeared. 

Perhaps…

Perhaps something was changing…? 

‘Did I do too much?’ Bhalla asked himself 'Did she get upset?’

Only now, Bhalla realised that his tactic might’ve done the opposite of what he meant it

to do.

After wrecking his brain for much longer than he would’ve wanted to, Bhalla came to a conclusion to check up on Y/n. 

His ego wouldn’t allow him to admit he cared, he simply wanted to check up on her and make sure she hadn’t done something stupid like running away from anger, but even if she did, Bhalla didn’t care, he was a strong prince!  (Maybe he cared just a bit…)

Just as Bhalla threw open the doors to his chamber to leave and find Y/n, there stood at his doorstep, three royal servants, holding a large platter of fruit for Bhalla. Before Bhalla could dismiss them and tell them he didn’t want any, an idea struck his head. 

He observed the glossy shine of the freshly plucked fruits with great care. Bhalla grinned slightly. Bhalla thought of the countless amount of times that Y/n had gotten herself into silly situations for them. 

He silently signalled the servants to follow him with the fruit platter with a wave of his hand. Starting from the first atom of the palace to the last, Bhalla looked everywhere for Y/n, searching every inch of the grounds for the girl, and yet, she was nowhere to be found. 

Bhalla felt a pang of terror, thinking his silly little assumption that Y/n could’ve run away earlier was true. Even if it was, Bhalla didn’t know why he felt this way, horrified at what could happen to her. 

But his terror came to a quick end when he felt the wind Russell the trees above, singing a song of lure for Bhalla. 

The pond. 

Of course, it was the first place he should’ve looked for her. Bhalla made his way to the pond and when he got close, he noticed the hunched-over figure of the young girl, sitting on the edge of the pond, leaning side-ways against a big rock. 

Bhalla smiled slightly. She was still here, within the palace walls, where he could see her. 

Bhalla didn’t look back at the servants and instead silently ordered them to leave with another wave of his hand. The servants obeyed, they placed the platter onto the grass, bowed, and left. 

Bhalla crossed his arms behind his back and stepped towards Y/n. As he neared her, he saw her form more clearly, she was shivering out of her wits, the cold night hair clearly taking a toll on her. 

When he was only three steps away from Y/n, his foot landed on a twig, and with a sharp snap, instantly alarmed the sleeping Y/n, who awoke at once, startled. 

Y/n looked at the surface of the pond, the rippling surface calming down to reveal the figure of Bhallaladeva’s reflection on the water. She buried her face into her knees and sniffled. 

Bhalla’s eyes softened and he took a prompt seat next to Y/n. 

Day by day, Bhalla was going stranger. He even went as far as to lower himself to the level of a stranger, someone who was practically nothing against him. He paid absolutely no mind to getting his expensive fabric dirty because all that was on his mind was the girl. 

Bhalla was silent for a second, unsure of what to say, when he decided to first help her get warm. He removed the detached draped part of his dhoti that covered his chest and awkwardly laid it over Y/n’s shivering body, revealing his upper body to the cold. 

“Were you crying?” Bhalla asked after another moment of silence. Y/n quickly sniffled and wiped away her tears as a fresh batch was on the verge of leaking out. She frantically shook her head,

“No, of course not.” Y/n said, in what she hoped was not her crying voice, “I don’t cry just by getting yelled at by some- some- some - random… prince… guy… person, who can’t even teach well.” Y/n said, stuttering and sniffling. 

Bhalla’s eyes grew soft and a tiny smile tugged at the end of his lips. Somewhere, deep within his heart, a place he didn’t even know existed, a tiny part of it found Y/n in this state to be kind of cute. 

The way she had clearly been sobbing her eyes out but refused to admit it. It was cute. Y/n sniffled and shuffled away from Bhalla, pushing her body further against the giant rock. Bhalla was not one to back down. When Y/n shuffled away, he shuffled close to her. 

It took him an awkward minute to figure out what he wanted to say and how he wanted to say it. That’s right. What did he want to say? Why was he even here rather than simply letting her die her death? 

“Listen, I really didn’t mean to make you so upset, it’s just a thing we do in training, we yell at the trainees to help them and make them better, to encourage them to keep going. I just- I just assumed it would work for you as well. I really didn’t mean to make you upset. I just wanted to help you get better.” 

In a moment of weakness, all that he wanted to say, accidentally slipped out from his mouth. Bhalla had no time to think about what he had just said, before Y/n spun her head around, so fast that it surprised even him for a second. Y/n looked at him with rage.

“so you couldn’t tell the difference between an emotionless middle-aged meat shield and a young girl who isn’t even from here!?” Y/n yelled.

Bhalla opened his mouth to say something, perhaps a snarky remark or a justification, but nothing came out. Bhallaladeva was speechless. 

Lost for his words. Instead, the corner of his eye caught sight of the massive fruit platter that the servants had broken their backs to help him carry around the entire palace. 

Bhalla reached for a mango from the platter and tossed it to his other hand where he displayed it in front of Y/n’s face. Y/n gasped, her mouth already starting to water and the twinkle returning to her eyes, making Bhalla grin. 

“A little birdy told me,” Bhalla said, “That monkeys love fruits and are willing to forgive their tutors for yelling at them in exchange for some royal quality mangos? Freshly plucked, might I add?” Y/n smiled a little and looked at Bhalla to urge her to take the mango. 

She took the mango into her hands,

“Alright fine,” Y/n muttered, her features softened and she looked down at her mango, “I’m sorry as well,” She admitted, looking back up at Bhalla with glossy eyes, “I just didn’t have enough focus or determination. I promise I’ll start doing better.”  

Y/n peeled her mango and began eating away at it.

Bhalla looked at Y/n, admiring her ability to admit her fault when in reality, it was never her fault. It was Bhalla. He didn’t understand Y/n enough to be able to teach her properly. 

He forced her into military training-type lessons and expected her to learn. A massive wave of guilt washed over Bhalla as he watched Y/n happily eat. 

Y/n, noticing the grim look on Bhalla's face, smiled and reached for some fruit, offering some of his own fruit to him. Y/n held her hand out with the fruit, but what came next, was something she never expected. 

Bhalla, not tearing his eyes from Y/n’s took the fruit out of her hand, put it aside and instead, took a hold of her hand. He held her hand with both of his and looked Y/n straight in the eyes. 

“Y/n,” Bhalla said, his voice filled with sincerity, so much so that it amazed Y/n a little, even the fact that he called her by her name. 

Now that Y/n thought about it, this was the first time he had ever called her by her name. Y/n’s name felt nice on Bhalla’s tongue. It felt sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted before, 

“I’m truly, really sorry. I promise- the fault is all mine. I still remember the amount of determination and excitement to learn you had when you first started lessons, and I- with my military tactics practically crushed all of it. 

It was my fault. For a student to excel, it is first and foremost the teacher’s job to understand the student. 

I failed to do that. But I never meant to hurt you. I know we have our fair share of differences, but I… I want you to know that I wouldn’t even dream of hurting you in such a way. And I promise I’ll do much better to teach you from now onwards. Please forgive me…”

There was silence between the two. The wind rustling the leaves above them was the only sound as they stared into each others’ eyes. Y/n’s brows furrowed ever so slightly at the sincerity in Bhalla’s voice. Y/n was completely taken aback. 

This was the last thing she expected from someone like Bhalla. 

She wasn’t expecting Bhallaladeva, the older prince of Mahimathi, the future tyrant, murderer of his mother and brother, and the person who tortures Devasena and tries to kill his brother’s son to do something like that.

That someone like him would apologise to such a simple girl from the bottom of his heart. 

To get on her level to feel such emotion. 

“Alright, enough with the heart-to-hearts Bhalla, you’re starting to freak me out,” Y/n said quickly, breaking the silence with a nervous chuckle, “Now take some fruit and admire the pond.” 

Bhalla smiled and shuffled closer to Y/n, taking the fruit he had put aside. The two admired the still pond for a moment before Y/n asked,

“Oh by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Y/n began, Bhalla turned to face her, “How in the world was the library empty every time we had lessons?? Usually in the library, there are too many people, roaming.” 

Bhalla let out a nervous chuckle at Y/n’s words. Bhalla sighed and looked down at the pond, smiling.

“I-... I actually had the library emptied and ordered everyone to stay out for the two weeks, so… so you could study freely.” Bhalla muttered, quite hesitantly. 

Y/n’s eyes widened at the thoughtfulness and grinned, knowing she’s got to have had some kind of positive change on him. It amazed Y/n how humble Bhalla was being. 

She knew for a fact that the Bhallaladeva she saw on the silver screen wouldn’t have done a single thing that the Bhalla now was doing. 

He wouldn’t do any of this, and if Y/n was being honest, the Bhalla in theatres would have forgotten about her existence the few seconds after meeting her. 

But this Bhalla, the one in front of her who was feeling flustered at the prospect of caring for someone - he was different. He potentially could be someone else in the future. Someone who doesn’t go on to betray his family and torture the kingdom. 

Y/n's smile faltered for a moment thinking about the fact that the man in front of her could do such horrendous things in the future, should she fail her mission. This same person would go on to terrorise the kingdom and get killed by his brother’s son. 

Y/n’s eyes glossed over with a sense of pity. True, she did feel pity from the very start, before she even arrived in Mahimathi, but now that she had gotten to know Bhalla on a personal level, it wrecked her heart to think about his future. 

But then she remembered. All she had to do was slightly direct his path to a better one. She could save him from his horrid fate.

Y/n smiled softly and looked at Bhalla with such soft eyes that they pulled something in Bhalla’s heart.

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Y/n said, softly, her voice quiet but caught by Bhalla, who smiled. His eyes found Y/n’s and for a moment they shared eye contact before Bhalla quickly redirected his look to something- anything other than Y/n’s eyes. 

Bhallas, put his face into his hand as he let out a laugh, he could barely look in her eyes for a few seconds without a weird feeling erupting in his stomach. 

“You’re very much welcome, Monkey,” Bhalla said, a feeling growing in his heart, pulling at his heartstrings, making him feel pathetic, and Y/n laughed

Neither Bhalla nor Y/n realised what this would’ve meant or what this weird feeling in Bhalla’s heart was whenever he looked into Y/n’s eyes. Bhalla had a slight hunch, but being the egoistic prince he was, he continued to deny it.

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

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[vijayasena]

CHAPTER 1..

Not everyone deserves to know the real you let them criticize, who they think you are "

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No one's pov..

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The sun had started to set earlier than usual in Delhi these days, the month of Shravan surely bring some small mercies of life.. the weather in the capital was perfect neither very hot nor very cold, it was as. perfect as it can be..

Ram also craved the same treatment that ocean used to give sun, As it was always ready to embrace the ocean at the end of the day being tired whole day and going in the warmth of ocean to forget the world..

How much Ram craved to have someone like ocean, to have someone with whom he can share everything that he slowly eating him from inside how much he craved to have someone with whom he can talk and blurt everything, how his guilt is slowly consuming him..

He had started to consider himself like a monster, the only thing that could destroy him shatter him completely break him were his own emotions, how he wished to have someone with whom he can talk about how he is feeling..

He still remembers how small his hand would have been when he made that promise to his father..

Ram sighed to himself, but he still doubted himself, he hated himself for the way he was he hated himself each day everyday and his hatred for himself was increasing day by day slowly, he had stopped to feel like a human being long ago..

He had accepted the fact that he didn't deserved anything, he didn't deserved any kind of happiness, how he considered himself that he didn't deserved someone who loved him hell he wasn't worth of any kind of love..

How much more he had to suffer now, how much more pain he had to feel now..

He was tired of hurting himself and so many Indian brothers just for those whites and the promise he made to his baba..

But now he doubted that if his baba would have supported him if he was here in his decision.

He asked this question to himself almost everyday..

Was all this worth it?

Will all of the things he was doing will gonna worth it ?..

Are they gonna he enough to fullfill his promise ?

Or he was just hurting himself and completely drowning in guilt losing all of himself..??..

He don't even have someone to tell him that whatever he was doing the sacrifices he was making was just gonna be worth it that it will gonna result in desired result..

He hated himself with the core of his heart, he wanted to die but he couldn't even die until he fullfill his promise, how much more he was gonna suffer?..

His heart bleed everytime some young rebel revolutionry died, because of him, whenever he hurted any Indian brother he got hurted hundred time times more he felt monstrous whenever he locked some Indian in the prison just because they were raising their voice against injustice and bad..

He was miserable he was vulnerable whenever he saw mothers, wives, sisters begging in front of those English officers to free their loved ones, how they just used to give them disgusting looks, how much It hurted him how it felt like someone just stabbed his heart with countless knives and the pain just used to become unbearable..

But he just used to witness their pain their agony their desperate eyes.. their lifeless body..

He needed someone to tell him that it was all gonna be worth it that whatever he is doing it will bring the desired result that all his hard-work will gonna show it's impact..

He was someone who will gonna stay quiet completely silent while a war goes on inside him..

Nothing could kill him beside his own mind..

He could feel his mother despising him whenever he beated some innocent poor.. it almost felt like his conscience was coloured red with the blood of so many innocents, he already had half of the Delhi to hate him he was used to those hateful looks, he was used to those hateful glares, he was used to those taunts and curse words but for how long???.

He didn't actually deserved all that, he deserved happiness like everyone else he had that right to be happy to be relaxed.. to get some happiness, like everyone else, but he let all that hurt him, choke him, make him cry, scream until it stopped hurting anymore..

Another day another riot and another set of bruises already increased the glory of his body, he sighed splashing cold water on his face closing his eyes, he didn't even cared about his bruises, the pain, the bleeding nothing cause that pain was nothing in comparison to the pain he was feeling inside his heart..

His guilt was eating him out from inside, the monster he considered himself was hurting him.. he just was so done now everytime he came from a riot it felt this horrible this hatred was more than any other time it was so much this time that he felt like killing himself..

He didn't deserved to live .

He didn't deserved to love .

He didn't deserved any happiness .

He didn't deserved any kind of relationship..thats what he kept saying to himself everytime..

He just used to bottle up his emotions and feelings and never let them out, but he was a mere human after all he needed to.open up he needed to tell someone how he felt..

He hurted 20 more, and all of them were in hospital, some got brutally bruised, there was a war going on inside his mind, according to him dying was the easy part and living was the trick..

He just wanted to finish all this as soon as possible it was getting unbearable now, it was getting on his nerves now..

He wiped his face grabbing the towel from the wire.. coming out of that bloodied brown uniform belonging to those whites,he threw it inside the bucket not wanting to look at it knowing it will gonna increase the pain in his heart, slipping into his clothes into a fresh pair of kurta and pyjamas..

He sighed again, staring at a long blue and purplish bruise starting from his arm and going down to his torso looking so painful, and two deep cuts on his collarbone, but he didn't cared about them not even a bit..

Remembering how his mother used to scold him whenever he used to come home brutally bruised and those worry filled eyes keep asking him how that happened then how she lovingly applied herbs on those wounds and bandaged it completely, and then lovingly kiss there to show affection and care..

And how Ram used to sleep in her lap clutching the hem of her saree, murmuring sorry he remembered all of he remembered the tiniest and smallest things of childhood..

Would his mother still had applied herbs on his bruises? If she was here and she get to know how he got them?..

Will his father still have supported him, provoked him to keep going if he was here..

He was in desperate need to search for an answer.. and there was no one to give him the real reasons the accurate answers.. he just wanted to disappear somewhere but it wasn't even possible..

Sighing he sat on his chair planning to write the obtained information about the transportation department and how they have started forced recruitment, and how the indentured labourers were being transported from the urban areas to Britain..

He heard alot of cases like this in these days,how people were getting false informations regarding the facilities of the lifestyle and money, and once they went there it was completely opposite from what they were told, and when they went they never returned..

Those bastards were using our Indian people as soldiers it was the people of his motherland who were losing their lives on foreign land, and it was getting more terrible by each passing day..

The women of those families whose men were being transported to Britain used to come to the department to ask about when their husbands and brothers are returning home? How desperately they wanted their loved ones in their home but in return all they got was disgusting looks and curse words and got kicked out..

Those who were going there never returned.. how much more his beloved motherland was going to suffer, it felt like the soil of this prosperous land was bleeding, the air was weeping because of the torture, the water of this land was soaked up taking in all the problems the fire was combusted completely because of the raging desire of those white hands to crush the people of this land under them..

he was again in those painful memories that haunted him each day every day provoked him to go further every day. Whenever he stopped, feeling it was all too much to take those words that promise that he made helped him to keep going no matter what happens..

His health, his happiness, his well being ..

Nothing mattered, blood, sweat, tears, it took all of himself that promise took his everything, he was left with nothing just the determination the urge to remove British raaj, whenever he felt he was having too much.

Those words, his aim "weapon in every hand" provoked him each second for fourteen years he thought of nothing cared about nothing felt nothing saw nothing..

Just emotionless, and wordlessly did his job, did his work and put all his effort to fullfill that promise.

He remembered each and every the tiniest bit of detail of that time, when he made his promise to his baba.how small his hand been when he asked for that hand of a small Seven year old Ram.

He remembered everything the smoke filled air, and banana trees blood and iron, his small face covered in dust sticking on his face because of the tears and sweat, his elbows being dugged deep into the ground.

How his heart stopped functioning when he noticed the lifeless body of his mother, the mother who lulled him to sleep when he had fever who took care of him when he hurted himself, the mother who always have been the strength of his father.

His younger brother, whom he shared the deepest bond with, the brother who was his another half whom he always put first, but it all got disappeared the moment. Those words of his father hit his ears.

"load aim shoot" those three words,he dedicated all his life for it. The father whose job was to hold his hands and led him into adulthood, but he became mature when he didn't even knew the meaning of it, he had to become an adult when he didn't even knew what he was about to face.

He didn't even had time to realise about his responsibilities, those small shoulders carried the burden of something that he didn't even deserved.  He didn't had anyone to supervise him, he didn't had anyone to tell him its all okay.

He didn't had anyone to take care of him when he had fever. When he was sick, fourteen years he thought about nothing just his job, he said nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing beside that fire that build up inside him and provoked him to destroy everything around him.

His worst nightmare was visible on his face right now, remembring everything and slowly thinking about whatever he had faced..

Endless sleepless nights, countless hours of working. Why? Because of that promise and he would do anything to keep it.

About his parents family his past ..

The reason he did all this? This job? The reason he was dedicated to it so much..

A well familiar voice broke him out of his trance, he looked startled eyes a bit wide and surprised he didn't even realised for how long he have been completely lost and trapped inside his head..

The door creaked open, and the well familiar yet unknown person's face came in the view of his eyes.

Someone he despised..

Someone he hated..

Someone he totally ignored..

There stood his wife.

Her lotus eyes staring deep into his brown ones trying to find something like they were searching for something. Face not showing any kind of emotion. Nothing was visible it was impossible for him to figure out what she was feeling at that moment..

He just sat there, looking at her not uttering a word, lost completely lost but he wasn't sure whether he was lost in those deep enchanting black orbs or his own head his own horrible memories.

He looked a bit surprised like he remembered he had a wife, like he was married like someone else lived under this roof with him. They distance between them was as far as godavari..

But he didn't seem to care any less about it. He didn't cared about this marriage or even the woman with the black orbs who was standing infront of him, it was all arranged and he got nothing to do with her. He already had enough in his plate. He had enough reasons to get trapped inside his head, to deal with his shits..

He didn't wanted to get one more addition of a headache in his already messed up life.

According to him this marriage was just a burden just an addition to his problems when they got married..

Marriage was the last thing he wanted in his life, but he forgot his babai was much more stubborn then him when it came to the well being of his nephew..

that old man who was like his father, and the only family he got after the whole chaos.. his old and matured experienced eyes couldn't stand his nephew like this..

Yeah he knew he wanted to fullfill that promise but not like this losing himself fully, forgetting that he was a human too, and according to him getting a wife would certainly reduce the stress and pain he had.

Which was absolutely wrong and nonsense according to Ram. After so many arguments, senseless fights and upsetting the old man he respected so much and upsetting him.

He had to agree. To have a wife.

And here he was.

But it turned out exactly opposite as soon as he started to live with her.

" You don't bother me i won't bother you" scenario was what going on in their martial life..

" Ram ?" He blinked slowly when she snapped her fingers in front of him, eyes narrowed eyebrows creased in confusion. Lips parted a bit as her chest heaved up and down at a rhythmic pace. clad in a simple orange saree minimal and as simple as she could be, he never payed any attention to her physical appearence or how she looked but today something kept him from resuming his usual behaviour with like something inside him made her stare at her longer than that needed He kept looking at her mind lost somewhere else.

He actually forgot that she was also living with him, that he shared this house with someone who was supposed to be his wife.  unfortunately only for the name. only as a formality only for all this outside world.

" I just came here to tell you that dinner is ready if you want to I can serve it ?" In a simple short and slow voice she stated, face straight eyes empty. Like she was just here to inform him about dinner nothing else.  He didn't had an appetite today, he didn't felt like having dinner.

All the hunger washed away long ago all that was left was undying guilt and the physical and emotional pain.

"I am not hungry" a short gruff and Cold reply came from his side, as she focused on his journals and books like always, isolating himself not opening up. This was his worst trait he used to completely isolate himself not even uttering a word when his mind was loud.

Not that he ever really behaved nice with her, but still this somehow hurted more. She knew he was just a mere pawn and she needed to calm her emotions at edge, not feeling pity for such a horrible person like him.

His bruises had started to pain more it started to get unbearable now, but still he kept ignoring it. Not in any mood to deal with them. She noticed it, she noticed his mood today, his eyes told everything she knew what had happened why he was upset but just like he said.

He wanted her to be away from him as far as possible, she couldn't do anything not that she was dying to be near him it was probably the last thing she wanted to but for a bigger achievements people had to make small sacrifices. So the facade of an ideal wife was needed at this time, taking a small sharp breath she asked in a hesitant voice not trying to sound very eager..

" I think you should rest for sometime and let me examine your injuri-?" She got cut off again by that familiar husky voice. Which was tired and annoyed now.

" I am alright i don't need anyone's help now i would like to be left alone" he replied sharply cutting her off, eyes again returning in their usual cold self..

As he gestured her towards the door, she looked hurt, this time it was visible on her face, she definitely looked taken aback, as she blinked confused.

Biting her lips, she looked down, his heart pained this time, seeing her like this and he cursed himself inside his head. seeing her like this, all because of him. Just because of him, he was ruining himself but he was ruining her as well. She was suffering with him too..

What was her fault?.

She didn't even do anything wrong?

Why was she getting this treatment from him ?..

She didn't even do anything wrong ?..

He cursed himself under his breath he was supposed to hate her then why was he having these thoughts??

Why was he feeling bad for her ?

What's wrong with him ?

He should hate her?  He felt his patience finally giving out, he didn't wanted her to be in this room.

He didn't deserved it, her care, her concern towards him, he wasn't worth it, she was pure and beautiful as well as a sweet, innocent naive soul according to him. And well he was a horrible person.

Why was she worried about him ? His bruises? His wounds?.

And it made him angry..

Everything was dark by now, dogs howling in the distance, but for the two souls who were present in the messed room, it was like someone blasted a bomb on her, she couldn't understand anything, everything disappeared around her.  All voices faded away.

"Just leave please!!" He yelled unconsciously finally anger getting on its peak, cold eyes staring at her holding a lot of hatred and anger.

A shaky breath escaped from her lips, as her hands formed into a fist..

Her chest felt heavy, her voice was lost, she was used to this behaviour of him towards her, it was a silent treatment before but right now?..

He didn't had any right to yell at her.like.that when she didn't do anything wrong, it wasn't right,

Was being nice resulted in something like this ?.

Was trying to make sure your husband is alright or not caused in something like this ?.

Was asking to take care of your own husband's injury gave this kind of treatment?..

She was sick of this, sick of being treated like shit, sometimes she just wanted to leave all that and get away from everything from this man, who didn't even deserved her hatred.

But what was she even expecting from someone like him who served to those white filthy bitches, who worked for them , who hurted tons of Indian brothers and sisters just for some money, some recognition, some tag..

What was she even expecting?.

He didn't deserved anything from her not even her hatred. He wasn't worth it..

So with her eyes closed, calming herself down, she turned around in anger, almost ready to murder him, and her cotton fabric the orange sheath veil hitting the face of her husband in process almost like slapping him, a "hmph" escape from his lips as his eyes closed he rubbed his cheek looking at her disappearing figure.

Still trying to process why he yelled at her like that ?.. 

He really deserved a silent and ignorant treatment of her. He didn't deserved her care and her love

without saying anything, and closed the door with a loud thud.

He just stared at the place where she was standing, still trying to figure out what was he even feeling, and taking a long heavy sigh he turned his attention back to his work. Trying to do anything to forget whatever just happened..

But that voice at the back of his head nudging him to say sorry, annoying him, at another level, testing his patience, was making him go insane, and slowly thinking and working eyes got closed, breathing became shallow pen dropped from the string grip.

And mind went for rest, as his eyes got closed. Losing the connection from the world and reality.

" Fucking piece of shit, asshole, a fucking wimp!! Just wait bitch just wait "the female's voice awfully cold and rough as she cursed barely above a whisper, her eyes boring hole into the lock of his room that was locked from inside..

And disappointed and with a clenched jaw, she slowly made her way back inside her room. Ready to work for something better. Not for some white and someone who was ruining their motherland.

This night was definitely going to be sleepless for her.

And the level of hatred increased more if it was even possible..

She hated him as much as it was possible for a normal homosapien to hate another homosapien.

As much as a human mind could despise someone.

Well little did they both knew, this hatred would gonna take them somewhere they actually belong.

It was just testing their patience, Destiny was being filthy. And dirty.

But surely it had something better planned for them ..

Somehow.

Only if they survive out of this.

__________________________________________________

I swear this is really cliche..

This is not my best but still I have tried...

I would post the second chapter soon. ( If I got time though)..

@mad-who-ra @mayakimayahai @ma-douce-souffrance @maooyinysparkle @natures-marvel @navaratna @ambidextrousarcher @yehsahihai @iam-siriuslysher-lokid @irisesforyoureyes @icebearfromnorthpole @thelonewolfwrites @trashmeowcan @thirst4light @ambidextrousarcher @amritkimohini @akshinayak @alhad-cleopatra @alhad-si-simran @stars-in-the-distance @sada-siva-sanyaasi @sambaridli @dumdaradumdaradum @hissterical-nyaan @hinsaa-paramo-dharma @hum-suffer @humapkehaikaun @houseofbreadpakoda

@kaagazkefool @kanhapriya @lil-stark @livelaughlovechai @ladydarkey @lite-teesko @kaalakanya @kaal-naagin @childofthenight2035 @voidsteffy @budugu @misalpav @misty-moonflower

[allari-ammayi]

Wife | Pt.2 《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! Reader☆

Synopsis: Y/n and Bhallaladeva have been married for three months, but after their wedding ceremony came to an end, Y/n hasn't seen him or heard of him since. It's not like she's his first wife she likely won't be his last- is what she thinks. But when Bhallaladeva sends a servant to summon Y/n to his quarters late one night, Y/n hopes to fulfil their unstarted martial duties, instead, Bhalla requests that Y/n do something else for him. Something Y/n never expected to hear from the ruthless king of Mahismati. 《Pt. 2, 2.4k Words》

Note: There will probably be maybe two more parts to this story lol. This is the Y/n version of this fic. If you would like to read the OC version, it will be available on my OC masterlist page! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

She stepped inside and gulped. His room was kind of how she imagined it. It was wide, grand, open and nothing like hers. Y/n’s room was grand too, of course, being one of the wives of the king, but compared to the king’s room, it felt like a children's play area.

Y/n stepped forward, examining every inch of the room, her anklets making music with every step she took. But the most important question lay unanswered. Where was Bhalla? The main reason Y/n traveled halfway across the palace at one in the morning for?

Y/n crossed her arms behind her and looked around, admiring the portraits and the statues. They were portraits of him, one of his mother, and of previous kings. But none of his brother or any of his wives.

But one particular portrait caught her eyes. Or rather, the fact that it was covered up with a massive velvet cloth.

What was Bhalla hiding under there?

Y/n stepped towards the portrait, her anklets notifying every other living thing nearby of her movement but right as she reached for the velvet cloth, the sound of a voice made her stomach drop.

“Here.” Said low, breathy voice. Y/n flinched, instantly drawing her hand away from the covered portrait and span around to face the source of the voice. What she saw made Y/n’s heart jump and her stomach summersault.

On his mighty grand bed, lay Bhalladeva.

The king.

The warrior.

The ruler.

Her husband.

Like his voice, Bhallaladeva was breathing heavily and fast, reaching an arm out for Y/n who was unsure of what to do.

Upon stepping closer to him, Y/n began getting worried. Bhalla’s face was covered in tiny droplets of sweat, his breathing was heavy and his chest rose and fell at an alarming rate.

Y/n gasped at the helpless form of the king and brought her hands to her lips.

“Your- Your Majesty-!” Y/n began, unsure of what to call him. Y/n’s use of ‘Your Majesty caused a tiny flinch to escape Bhalla’s body.

Should she acknowledge their marriage and the sacred thread tied around her neck by Bhalla and call him ‘Bhalla’?

Or was was more fitting to call him ‘Bhallaladeva’ to please his massive ego and not seem overly friendly?

Or was she supposed to be his quiet submissive wife and refer to him as his majesty?

Y/n gulped and quickly looked around while Bhalla continued breathing rapidly in a feverish way.

“Don’t- Don’t worry Your Majesty! I’ll-” With the way Bhalla flinched as she called him ‘Your Majesty’, Y/n was internally face-palming herself. Y/n hated how she kept stumbling over her words.

Way to make a great first impression, she thought as she slowly began panicking.

Y/n noticed how Bhalla could barely keep his eyes open as they kept drooping and he struggled to breath normally.

“I’ll call a healer-!” Just as Y/n turned around to sprint away to fetch a healer, Bhalla’s voice stopped her yet once again.

“No-!” He said. Y/n couldn’t tell if he was shouting or simply in pain because the moment she turned around, she saw him painfully clutching his heart while he winced in pain.

“But-”

“No. I don’t need a physician right now.” Bhalla said, his pain starting to worsen as he raked his fingers through his dark curly locks. Y/n gulped, unconvinced but not willing to disobey his Majesty’s orders.

“Then… Why was I summoned here, Your majesty?”

Bhalla pat the empty space next to him on the bed, confusing Y/n.

What did he want her to do? Clean the bed sheets? Dust it? Was the dust causing him to go all haywire like this?

Y/n, still confused, awkwardly moved towards the king and bent down. She looked at the king, who looked back at her before she looked down at the spot when he was patting.

Y/n began patting and sweeping aswell with her hand, brushing the non-existenct specks of dust off the edge of the bed, confidently.

When she finished, she looked at the king, hoping to see an impressed face at her brillinat cleaning abilities, only to be met with a confused look from the king.

“What’re you doing?” Bhalla croaked out.

“I was dusting.” Y/n replied, impressively. Bhalla’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“...Why?” Bhalla said, after a slow moment of consideration, seemingly forgetting his pain in the confusion.

“Because… Well, because Your Majesty-” Bhalla flinched ever so slightly as Y/n referred to him as ‘Your Majesty’, “-asked me to.” Y/n said, in a matter-of-fact tone, leaving Bhalla speechless. Bhalla’s lack of words left Y/n worried out of her mind.

Had she not cleaned enough? Or did she do it wrong?

Y/n was practically losing her mind over what Bhalla would do to her if she acted incorrectly.

Would he kill her? Posion her? Torutre her? Publically behead her?

Thoughts like those ran through Y/n’s mind and each thought was more treacherous than the one before. In the flurry of worry, Y/n stood up suddenly, knocking over a golden water goblet in the process and panicked further at the noise it made.

Bhalla was undisturbed by the goblet, he genuinely couldn’t care less about it. Instead, his energy was taken upp by a small smile gracing his lips at Y/n’s antics. The sound og the falling goblet masked the tiny chuckle that escaped Bhalla’s lips.

Suddenly, as if catching himself in a horrid act, Bhalla quickly wiped his smile right off, and replaced it with a simple calm face.

Y/n looked at the fallen ghoblet and back at Bhalla, misreading his calmness for anger.

“M-Maybe it would be best if I fetched a physician and left Your Majesty alone-” Y/n kept stumbling over her words, her voice clearly laced with tension and fear, and when she turned around suddenly, Bhalla’s voice stopped her once more.

“No.” He didn’t shout this time, he was calm as if suppressing his quick breath and his heavy voice. As if he was actually trying to be soft with her. As if she was a fragile little bird that he didn’t want to harm.

Y/n stopped and looked over at him, he was patting the empty spot next to him again.

“I meant stay with me,” He said, and under his moustach, Y/n failed to spot the tiniest and almost invisible smile curling at the corner of his lips, “Not- Not dust the bed,”

“Ohhh,” Y/n said, nodding her head slowly in understanding. She slowly and cautiously advanding towards the king and carefully sat next to his flat body.

“Stay with me.” Bhalla said, softly, allowing himself to close his eyes and he turned his head to feel Y/n’s touch through the fabric of her voni. “Just for a while…”

Y/n stiffened, having never expected something like this from the king. Bhalla’s voice made Y/n think it almost sounded like love, but she shook the thought off quickly. She remembered the words of the other wives.

Bhalla is incapable of love. Giving it or receiving it.

This wasn’t love, Y/n told herself, when another question popped up.

What happened to the king?

And another one.

Why did he need her to stay with him?

And another one, the one Y/n was most curious about.

Why her?

The answer to that question seemed simple. He wanted to see his latest wife, so he could cross it off on his to-do list and not bother about her ever again till her funeral. That was the only possible reason… Right?

Something in the back of Y/n’s mind told her that it wasn’t. Her curiosity getting a hold of her, Y/n gulped and let her first question out.

“Are- Are you okay?” Y/n mentally face-palmed at the way this question was phrased.

It seemed too formal and yet informal at the same time. How was that even possible!?

“Now I am,” Bhalla said, his voice musch less breathy like before, his chest raising and falling at a normal pace rather than rapidly like before. “Stay with me.” Bhalla’s soft voice and calm demenor, contrary to his previous aura, surprised Y/n.

It took her a few minutes to realise she was there to calm Bhalla down, but she was unsure how. She could just sit there like he said, till he fell asleep, but no.

Y/n could tell that Bhalla was still agitated, sure not as much as he was when she walked in, but he was still breathing pretty heavy and sweating like crazy.

Y/n looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to help Bhalla and with each little thing she saw, the easier this task became. Now came time for execution.

Y/n looked down at her soft voni and without a second thought, ripped a large piece off.

She picked up the fallen goblet, filled it with water from the vase on the bed side table and dipped the ripped section of the voni into the water.

She gave it a good dunk, pulled it out and squeed the excess water out before she folded it up neatly and looked over at Bhalla. With a gulp and hesitant shaky hands, she wiped the sweat off his face with the cloth.

Bhalla practically melted into Y/n’s voni as he let out a sigh of relief as the cold water caressed his skin. Y/n gave the voni another dunk, squeezed it one more time and wiped only the top of Bhalla’s chest before she gave it one last dunk, squeezed and folded it and placed it on his forehead.

Carefully lifting herself off the bed, Y/n sprinted towards the nearest widow and with a great push, she opened it, letting the cool breeze open to cool Bhalla down. The rust on the windows told her that they hadn’t been opened in a long time.

Y/n ran back to Bhalla, who had stopped sweating but was still squirming around in unease. Y/n looked around to see if there was anything she could do to stop that and put an end to his uneasiness, till she came to a conclusion that there was only one thing she could do.

Show him a motherly kind of love.

Sure, Y/n was told that Bhalla couldn’t feel love, or so she thought, but it was worth a try. She sat back down, and after careful consideration, ran her fingers through Bhalla’s raven dark locks until she had a hold of his head. She scooped his head up and placed it on her lap.

Bhalla opened his eyes slightly to see what Y/n was doing, but when he heard her voice the very next second, he closed his eyes. Y/n closed her eyes and started humming a tune.

A tune that her mother sang to her as a kis. A tune that every mother likely sang to their kids. Y/n brushed Bhalla’s hair back and off his faceand remembered a lullaby.

“Lali, Lali, Lali Lali.” Y/n began, her nervous voice nowhere in sight, now replaced by a soft sing-song voice, “Vatapatrasayiki Varahala lali,” Bhalla closed his eyes fully now, his chest’s constantly movement slowling down with every word Y/n sang. “Rajivanetruniki ratanala lali.” Bhalla’s previously tense body softened down instantly like hard butter melting in the hot sun. “Lali, Lali, Lali, Lali,” Y/n carresed the side of Bhalla’s face as she sang the lullaby, his conciousness slowly drifting away with every verse she sang as he eventually returned to a peaceful slumber.

When Bhalla had fully gone back to sleep, Y/n carefully picked his head up, dragged over a pillow and gently placed him down. She saw his silk sheets flayed all over the bed and pulled them up before tucking him in as if he was just an innocnet little child, rather than the feared, ruthless leader of Mahismati.

When Bhalla was tucked in and peacefully sleeping away, Y/n looked down at his features and wondered what she was supposed to do now? Kiss him on the forehead and leave?

Maybe it was a bit too soon, she thought, considering this was the first time they even spoke to each other. But then again, she thought, she was his wife, and as a wife, kissing isn’t something to be neglected.

Impulsively, Y/n bent her head down and pecked Bhalla on the forehead before bringing her nails to her lips in shyness and spriting out of the room. Even if Bhalla was not fond of kisses, he wouldn’t know, he was asleep, Y/n told herself.

She carefully shut the doors to the room close to not wake him up and trotted off to her very own room, practically prancing, dancing, and skipping as she went, her excitement lighting up the cold dark hallways.

When Bhalla heard the doors to his room close shut, she slowly peeled his eyes open and looked up at the ceiling. Despite the windows being open and Y/n’s damp voni on his forehead, Bhalla’s face burnt like fire as he grazed his finger over the spot Y/n had kissed him.

Y/n hummed the tune of the lullaby to herself as she skipped through the hallways, her stomach unable to stay at ease with the butterflies eurpting through them.

Today was a good day, she thought, a productive one. She had talked to the king- or rather, her husband, for the first time. She sang him a lullaby and tucked him into bed.

Sometimes the simplest answers give the most effective results.

She even figured out what she would need to do from now one if she was ever called back.

Take his head into her lap, sing to him, calm him down and tuck him into bed.

Simple.

Though it seemed very unlikely that she would ever be called back.

But the voices of the other wives came into Y/n’s mind. The king never spoke to any of his wives unless it’s extremely important. He has no business with them and even if he does, he always only sends a servant.

This thought caused Y/n to stop and think.

True.

Why did the king need her if he never talked to his wives?

This unanswered questions left Y/n thinking about all the other unanswered questions.

Such as why was he the way he was when Y/n first entered the room?

Was it a medical condition?

Or was it the result of traumatic events in his past?

And if so, what exactly was that traumatic past?

Why did Bhalla need someone her to calm him down?

Why not one of his more experienced wives who knew more about him than she did?

And the most curious.

What lay behind the velvet cloth?

What was it a portrait of?

Or rather, who was it of?

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 @vijayasena

Please reply to this post if you wish to be tagged in my future works, fics, and the next part to this story! :)

[allari-ammayi]

PLEASEEE I NEEEED PART 2 TO THE BHALLA FIC RN 🙌🙌🙌

Wife | Pt.2 《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! OC☆

Synopsis: Pooja and Bhallaladeva have been married for three months, but after their wedding ceremony came to an end, Pooja hasn't seen him or heard of him since. It's not like she's his first wife she likely won't be his last- is what she thinks. But when Bhallaladeva sends a servant to summon Pooja to his quarters late one night, Pooja hopes to fulfil their unstarted martial duties, instead, Bhalla requests that Pooja do something else for him. Something Pooja never expected to hear from the ruthless king of Mahismati. 《Pt. 2, 2.4k Words》

Note: There will probably be maybe two more parts to this story lol. This is the OC version of this fic. If you would like to read the Y/n version, it will be available on my Y/n masterlist page! ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 》 By interacting with my works or posts, you agree to be exposed to my content and are confirming that you are willingly reading my writing!!

She stepped inside and gulped. His room was kind of how she imagined it. It was wide, grand, open and nothing like hers. Pooja’s room was grand too, of course, being one of the wives of the king, but compared to the king’s room, it felt like a children's play area.

Pooja stepped forward, examining every inch of the room, her anklets making music with every step she took. But the most important question lay unanswered. Where was Bhalla? The main reason Pooja traveled halfway across the palace at one in the morning for?

Pooja crossed her arms behind her and looked around, admiring the portraits and the statues. They were portraits of him, one of his mother, and of previous kings. But none of his brother or any of his wives.

But one particular portrait caught her eyes. Or rather, the fact that it was covered up with a massive velvet cloth.

What was Bhalla hiding under there?

Pooja stepped towards the portrait, her anklets notifying every other living thing nearby of her movement but right as she reached for the velvet cloth, the sound of a voice made her stomach drop.

“Here.” Said low, breathy voice. Pooja flinched, instantly drawing her hand away from the covered portrait and span around to face the source of the voice. What she saw made Pooja’s heart jump and her stomach summersault.

On his mighty grand bed, lay Bhalladeva.

The king.

The warrior.

The ruler.

Her husband.

Like his voice, Bhallaladeva was breathing heavily and fast, reaching an arm out for Pooja who was unsure of what to do.

Upon stepping closer to him, Pooja began getting worried. Bhalla’s face was covered in tiny droplets of sweat, his breathing was heavy and his chest rose and fell at an alarming rate.

Pooja gasped at the helpless form of the king and brought her hands to her lips.

“Your- Your Majesty-!” Pooja began, unsure of what to call him. Pooja’s use of ‘Your Majesty caused a tiny flinch to escape Bhalla’s body.

Should she acknowledge their marriage and the sacred thread tied around her neck by Bhalla and call him ‘Bhalla’?

Or was was more fitting to call him ‘Bhallaladeva’ to please his massive ego and not seem overly friendly?

Or was she supposed to be his quiet submissive wife and refer to him as his majesty?

Pooja gulped and quickly looked around while Bhalla continued breathing rapidly in a feverish way.

“Don’t- Don’t worry Your Majesty! I’ll-” With the way Bhalla flinched as she called him ‘Your Majesty’, Pooja was internally face-palming herself. Pooja hated how she kept stumbling over her words.

Way to make a great first impression, she thought as she slowly began panicking.

Pooja noticed how Bhalla could barely keep his eyes open as they kept drooping and he struggled to breath normally.

“I’ll call a healer-!” Just as Pooja turned around to sprint away to fetch a healer, Bhalla’s voice stopped her yet once again.

“No-!” He said. Pooja couldn’t tell if he was shouting or simply in pain because the moment she turned around, she saw him painfully clutching his heart while he winced in pain.

“But-”

“No. I don’t need a physician right now.” Bhalla said, his pain starting to worsen as he raked his fingers through his dark curly locks. Pooja gulped, unconvinced but not willing to disobey his Majesty’s orders.

“Then… Why was I summoned here, Your majesty?”

Bhalla pat the empty space next to him on the bed, confusing Pooja.

What did he want her to do? Clean the bed sheets? Dust it? Was the dust causing him to go all haywire like this?

Pooja, still confused, awkwardly moved towards the king and bent down. She looked at the king, who looked back at her before she looked down at the spot when he was patting.

Pooja began patting and sweeping aswell with her hand, brushing the non-existenct specks of dust off the edge of the bed, confidently.

When she finished, she looked at the king, hoping to see an impressed face at her brillinat cleaning abilities, only to be met with a confused look from the king.

“What’re you doing?” Bhalla croaked out.

“I was dusting.” Pooja replied, impressively. Bhalla’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“...Why?” Bhalla said, after a slow moment of consideration, seemingly forgetting his pain in the confusion.

“Because… Well, because Your Majesty-” Bhalla flinched ever so slightly as Pooja referred to him as ‘Your Majesty’, “-asked me to.” Pooja said, in a matter-of-fact tone, leaving Bhalla speechless. Bhalla’s lack of words left Pooja worried out of her mind.

Had she not cleaned enough? Or did she do it wrong?

Pooja was practically losing her mind over what Bhalla would do to her if she acted incorrectly.

Would he kill her? Posion her? Torutre her? Publically behead her?

Thoughts like those ran through Pooja’s mind and each thought was more treacherous than the one before. In the flurry of worry, Pooja stood up suddenly, knocking over a golden water goblet in the process and panicked further at the noise it made.

Bhalla was undisturbed by the goblet, he genuinely couldn’t care less about it. Instead, his energy was taken upp by a small smile gracing his lips at Pooja’s antics. The sound og the falling goblet masked the tiny chuckle that escaped Bhalla’s lips.

Suddenly, as if catching himself in a horrid act, Bhalla quickly wiped his smile right off, and replaced it with a simple calm face.

Pooja looked at the fallen ghoblet and back at Bhalla, misreading his calmness for anger.

“M-Maybe it would be best if I fetched a physician and left Your Majesty alone-” Pooja kept stumbling over her words, her voice clearly laced with tension and fear, and when she turned around suddenly, Bhalla’s voice stopped her once more.

“No.” He didn’t shout this time, he was calm as if suppressing his quick breath and his heavy voice. As if he was actually trying to be soft with her. As if she was a fragile little bird that he didn’t want to harm.

Pooja stopped and looked over at him, he was patting the empty spot next to him again.

“I meant stay with me,” He said, and under his moustach, Pooja failed to spot the tiniest and almost invisible smile curling at the corner of his lips, “Not- Not dust the bed,”

“Ohhh,” Pooja said, nodding her head slowly in understanding. She slowly and cautiously advanding towards the king and carefully sat next to his flat body.

“Stay with me.” Bhalla said, softly, allowing himself to close his eyes and he turned his head to feel Pooja’s touch through the fabric of her voni. “Just for a while…”

Pooja stiffened, having never expected something like this from the king. Bhalla’s voice made Pooja think it almost sounded like love, but she shook the thought off quickly. She remembered the words of the other wives.

Bhalla is incapable of love. Giving it or receiving it.

This wasn’t love, Pooja told herself, when another question popped up.

What happened to the king?

And another one.

Why did he need her to stay with him?

And another one, the one Pooja was most curious about.

Why her?

The answer to that question seemed simple. He wanted to see his latest wife, so he could cross it off on his to-do list and not bother about her ever again till her funeral. That was the only possible reason… Right?

Something in the back of Pooja’s mind told her that it wasn’t. Her curiosity getting a hold of her, Pooja gulped and let her first question out.

“Are- Are you okay?” Pooja mentally face-palmed at the way this question was phrased.

It seemed too formal and yet informal at the same time. How was that even possible!?

“Now I am,” Bhalla said, his voice musch less breathy like before, his chest raising and falling at a normal pace rather than rapidly like before. “Stay with me.” Bhalla’s soft voice and calm demenor, contrary to his previous aura, surprised Pooja.

It took her a few minutes to realise she was there to calm Bhalla down, but she was unsure how. She could just sit there like he said, till he fell asleep, but no.

Pooja could tell that Bhalla was still agitated, sure not as much as he was when she walked in, but he was still breathing pretty heavy and sweating like crazy.

Pooja looked around the room to see if there was anything she could use to help Bhalla and with each little thing she saw, the easier this task became. Now came time for execution.

Pooja looked down at her soft voni and without a second thought, ripped a large piece off.

She picked up the fallen goblet, filled it with water from the vase on the bed side table and dipped the ripped section of the voni into the water.

She gave it a good dunk, pulled it out and squeed the excess water out before she folded it up neatly and looked over at Bhalla. With a gulp and hesitant shaky hands, she wiped the sweat off his face with the cloth.

Bhalla practically melted into Pooja’s voni as he let out a sigh of relief as the cold water caressed his skin. Pooja gave the voni another dunk, squeezed it one more time and wiped only the top of Bhalla’s chest before she gave it one last dunk, squeezed and folded it and placed it on his forehead.

Carefully lifting herself off the bed, Pooja sprinted towards the nearest widow and with a great push, she opened it, letting the cool breeze open to cool Bhalla down. The rust on the windows told her that they hadn’t been opened in a long time.

Pooja ran back to Bhalla, who had stopped sweating but was still squirming around in unease. Pooja looked around to see if there was anything she could do to stop that and put an end to his uneasiness, till she came to a conclusion that there was only one thing she could do.

Show him a motherly kind of love.

Sure, Pooja was told that Bhalla couldn’t feel love, or so she thought, but it was worth a try. She sat back down, and after careful consideration, ran her fingers through Bhalla’s raven dark locks until she had a hold of his head. She scooped his head up and placed it on her lap.

Bhalla opened his eyes slightly to see what Pooja was doing, but when he heard her voice the very next second, he closed his eyes. Pooja closed her eyes and started humming a tune.

A tune that her mother sang to her as a kis. A tune that every mother likely sang to their kids. Pooja brushed Bhalla’s hair back and off his faceand remembered a lullaby.

“Lali, Lali, Lali Lali.” Pooja began, her nervous voice nowhere in sight, now replaced by a soft sing-song voice, “Vatapatrasayiki Varahala lali,” Bhalla closed his eyes fully now, his chest’s constantly movement slowling down with every word Pooja sang. “Rajivanetruniki ratanala lali.” Bhalla’s previously tense body softened down instantly like hard butter melting in the hot sun. “Lali, Lali, Lali, Lali,” Pooja carresed the side of Bhalla’s face as she sang the lullaby, his conciousness slowly drifting away with every verse she sang as he eventually returned to a peaceful slumber.

When Bhalla had fully gone back to sleep, Pooja carefully picked his head up, dragged over a pillow and gently placed him down. She saw his silk sheets flayed all over the bed and pulled them up before tucking him in as if he was just an innocnet little child, rather than the feared, ruthless leader of Mahismati.

When Bhalla was tucked in and peacefully sleeping away, Pooja looked down at his features and wondered what she was supposed to do now? Kiss him on the forehead and leave?

Maybe it was a bit too soon, she thought, considering this was the first time they even spoke to each other. But then again, she thought, she was his wife, and as a wife, kissing isn’t something to be neglected.

Impulsively, Pooja bent her head down and pecked Bhalla on the forehead before bringing her nails to her lips in shyness and spriting out of the room. Even if Bhalla was not fond of kisses, he wouldn’t know, he was asleep, Pooja told herself.

She carefully shut the doors to the room close to not wake him up and trotted off to her very own room, practically prancing, dancing, and skipping as she went, her excitement lighting up the cold dark hallways.

When Bhalla heard the doors to his room close shut, she slowly peeled his eyes open and looked up at the ceiling. Despite the windows being open and Pooja’s damp voni on his forehead, Bhalla’s face burnt like fire as he grazed his finger over the spot Pooja had kissed him.

Pooja hummed the tune of the lullaby to herself as she skipped through the hallways, her stomach unable to stay at ease with the butterflies eurpting through them.

Today was a good day, she thought, a productive one. She had talked to the king- or rather, her husband, for the first time. She sang him a lullaby and tucked him into bed.

Sometimes the simplest answers give the most effective results.

She even figured out what she would need to do from now one if she was ever called back.

Take his head into her lap, sing to him, calm him down and tuck him into bed.

Simple.

Though it seemed very unlikely that she would ever be called back.

But the voices of the other wives came into Pooja’s mind. The king never spoke to any of his wives unless it’s extremely important. He has no business with them and even if he does, he always only sends a servant.

This thought caused Pooja to stop and think.

True.

Why did the king need her if he never talked to his wives?

This unanswered questions left Pooja thinking about all the other unanswered questions.

Such as why was he the way he was when Pooja first entered the room?

Was it a medical condition?

Or was it the result of traumatic events in his past?

And if so, what exactly was that traumatic past?

Why did Bhalla need someone her to calm him down?

Why not one of his more experienced wives who knew more about him than she did?

And the most curious.

What lay behind the velvet cloth?

What was it a portrait of?

Or rather, who was it of?

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 @vijayasena

Please reply to this post if you wish to be tagged in my future works, fics, and the next part to this story! :)

[vijayasena]

Chapter II.....

Faith is the bird that feels the light when the dawn in still dark..

- Rabindranath Tagore

No one's p.o.v..

The sun blazed through the white translucent curtains of the wooden oak window which situated in the north wall of the messy fairly large room as if trying not to make anyone know about its uninvited arrival. the yellow painted room lit up in advance making it shone like gold.

extended banks of cloud like long french loaves glowed pink as the sun the sun spread its last rays of the day and ready to set in the arms of yamuna. the distant roof tops shined like rose tinted blush. breeze was silently singing the melody of monsoon and the distant crops danced flawlessly alluring the first rain of the year and ready to bring the relieved grin on the face of the hardworking farmers who silently prayed to god for mercy.

" it doesnt even matter they are confiscating the land if you are unable to pay the tax and the rain not being plentiful this year isn't helping the situation much"

The female with Lotus brown eyes narrowed her eyes ever so slightly as if a brown ship changing its direction according to the direction of wind her cupid lips formed into a thin exasperated stressed thin line as the long and cold fingers of hers ran through the pages of her journal.

But the brown pupil burned like rings of fire engulfed in destructive flames that just wanted to burn the white nasty hands off from the pure land of her motherland from torture and miserability those nasty hands.

Closing those eyes with thick long lashes hiding the burning rings of fire like clouds compelling to hide the sun. Her brown skin shone like gold under the blazing heat.

" Two farmers attempted suicide Niyati, the revenue officers are nothing less than an bunch of pricks marching with sepoys beating them to death if they are unable to pay the tax"

She looked at the small ideal of shri ram resting on the nearby table silently asking him to take her to don't let her rott in misery but as if the god was telling her to compel their decision that she couldn't die when she had a job to free her beloved mother land.

Tears pricked at the end of those Lotus eyes like gandharaj shedding sweet nectar but her face remained hard as rock.

These people were hardly human they didn't had any kindness not even a sense of humanity for the real citizens living on their motherland. Exploiting their people. How can they be so cruel? But whom was she kidding. They were here to ruin their country and there was no way she was going to sit back and observe her country being vanished away ruined by the nasty white hands.

She wondered how much more blood of innocents will grace the sacred pure land of her Bharat. This soil was dirty by being exploitation of its sons and daughters in most unjust ways. It was like how much pain and suffering those whites could give to them.

" your husband-" the voice of the another female came out as a hesitant effort to blurt out the truth or not her long slender fingers fidgeted with the pen in her hands as she thought if it was a good time to tell her best friend about this or not her eyes Snapped at her friend who bit her lips in anticipation fighting with the urges inside thinking if she should tell the brown eyed woman about this or not.

" snap out of it Meera" the Lotus eyed woman's voice was laced with annoyance and frustation as her chest heaved up and down in a rhythmic way calming down the amount of anger she had for those people who came to have trade and formed the territory!! as if after a tremendous storm the ship sinks down in the vast depth of the undefeated sea she stared at the woman in front of her. She was being ridiculous right now. She needed to tell what was the matter ?

And when it got something to do with the so called egoistic sadistic husband of hers no wonder she didn't got one of the nicest feelings. After all it was him, a person who gave more importance to those who came from foreign land.

Who ruined everything about Indians and India.

Who tortured people.

Who used them like a piece of rag who exploited them. Who beated them to death after making them suffer. Who left thm rot in misery .

Who disclosed the indian education policy being very proud of western culture.

Who manipulated that they were the only ones destined for greatness.

The ancient sculptures were being burned in the Asiatic society so as if to completely vanish the proofs of the greatness those pages carried the witnesses that this sacred land was touching the heavens until someone came in expensive leather boots in hope to conquer it crush it's maginificense with hunger in the eyes.

Who made the next generation completely disclosed from their own country's excellence which was beyond a tiny white brain's understanding.

Whose history held the maginificense that no one else could match.

Her jaw clenched in a slight manner doing everything in her power to reduce her anger and fury the blazing heat striked like waves of the lava on her oval shaped face bringing out unappreciated beauty. Remembering that education policy they have just brought. Established universities in many parts of Bengal, Bombay, odisha, madras, and finally Delhi.

Teaching about western tactics which the people of this land didn't even needed.

It was a way of manipulating the younger minds two completely vanished the Indian education system under the curtain of Western class and policies like the education India possessed was nothing. Anything related to their country was a waste and garbage. That the European culture was everything and it was the only thing that was right.

Like the English literature the language and the content they brought was everything one needed to look intelligent and just by following the Western tradition was the only thing one needed to become smart and face the world.

as if India was not the land to give them with the real knowledge of science with their secret manuscripts. Her Bharat was the land which discovered the reality of this universe by its unimaginable knowledge.

Compelling the young minds to forget their own roots and cultures. And become the puppets of them working in the civil services for those nasty i white hands helping them making the administration more strong so that the great Britain can spread its Glory all around the world. who didnt even knew hat was the psychology behind the indian education system and how it was so vast and complex because only the people worth its value could understand those syllabus and scripts.

making large buildings in city hubbub amid the noises of where the world was in a rush and chaos were unfolding it wasnt a way to gain knowledge in between the solace of forest between the sweet melody those tall trees of deodars produced.

Where the forest hummed sweetly as the dense mesmerizing greenery surrounded the souls like a blanket preventing them to go in the outer noisy busy world trapping them beneath the fragile leaves dancing along the song with the summer wind and despite the heat the sudden change of the weather making the white angry ball of fire disappear behind the dark dense clouds with the cool Breeze making them get to know the depth of clear knowledge palms tingle happily and smile in contentment.

This was what the siksha of gurukul was about.

And that needed to be returned back. The people needed to realise what their ancestors had predicted for their sacred land . What this land was capable of doing and how they have lost their glory over the time as a planned way by the Britishers so as to manipulate them. They had forgotten the true glory of their

" Ram was there" she stopped writing in her journal the orange sheath veil laid across the soft mattress just behind her as her breath hitched in her throat hearing this from her fellow partner.

Thinking of all the worst possibilities and outcomes her mind could come up with. Her brown irises asked for the matter the another female was hesitant in blurting out.

Well familiar with the fact that once she got to know what have happened. She might lose her composure and end up doing something that can cause them alot of trouble and all of the planning all the hard work could be go in vein in a snap of the finger. And the hard work will be wasted in seconds they needed to stand cool sometimes reaction could make everything much worse.

They were rebels. And one careless moment and they would be finished.

" Meera what is it ?" Her voice held seriousness and authority this time a strictness which wasn't visible much because of the role of dual personality she was playing betraying her true self transforming into something else who was completely unknown to her true self. Something she hated behaving like . But these small sacrifices needed to be put in order to provide the freedom they were struggling for.

"He was the one whipping the farmers when the revenue officer complained that he was being soft to HIS people he whipped them until they tested death" Meera's voice came trembling the gentle yet throaty voice was completely transformed into a voice of a freaked out cat after not knowing what the female was going to do after hearing this.

Flinching slightly she managed to peer her dark orbs at the silent solitude of the young woman whose hands held the chair in an unmistakable grip as if imagining the throat of her so called husband.

Her bitter chuckle made another woman gulp in fear as releasing a shuddering breath escaped from her chapped dry lips.

"My dagger ? Did you got it sharped?" The female looked like an Apsara mistakenly fallen on earth As sun did it's best to add more beauty in her gold like skin. The lotus eyes looked balls of fire engulfed by flames.

A Shiver ran down from Meera's spine as he with a shaky hand put the delicate realism drewed dagger on the soft mattress.

Wondering if she was planning to become widow ?

*

*

*

*

*

________________________________________________________________________________________

The winds were so fast and undefeated, opposing the intensity of the Rain and its speed, the downpouring not stopping even for a minute. There was no sign of moon in the dark mysterious invisible sky, just black clouds hiding everything acting like a big blanket. Like protecting the enchanting beauty of the big and hypnotic apperance of moon from the evil eyes.

The street was abandoned, not a mere sight of life, just the lights of street lamps were providing the much needed light and help the needy to find its way to the desired destination without having any more trouble.

shops were closed, water flowed on the slaty gray flat bricks, on the road, washing the dirt and rubbish on its way streaming into the drainage pipes through the narrow passage which were situated at both the ends of the road the mud and dirt mixing with the clean and cold water droplets making it look all clean and fresh.

The young man's footsteps echoed along the voice of the rain and the poem of the earth as his mind pondered over the just events that took place few minutes ago while silently walking in the rain ignoring the stinging pain of rain drops slapping against his tanned skin as if the nature was warning him to follow the right steps and vanish this facade he was holding. Performing since everyday with his rough calloused hands tha now was covered in such thik clot of blood unable to get it cleaned as the crimson now flew in his conscience.

He didn't knew what was happening with him. Somedays he felt everything at once and some days nothing at all. He didn't had any idea what was worse drowning beneath the waves or dying from the thirst. ?

The guilt was too much to handle .

The emotions were too much to understand.

The feelings were too much to even count.

On the other hand he was again in those painful memories that haunted him each day every day provoked him to go further every day. Whenever he stopped, feeling it was all too much to take those words that promise that he made helped him to keep going no matter what happens.

The pain and heart wrenching guilt sometimes got too much that it was confusing what to feel about and what should be laid beyond the misery of his. But who cared anymore ?

He needed to find that gond man and handle him to the British authorities and it will be end soon?

He sighed tapping his foot beneath the wet pebble only the time would tell. His mind ran back to the incident that just took place.

As if the today's torture of gracing his conscience in red crimson with the blood of an innocent harmless farmers wasn't enough.

He disgusted himself. He hated himself and then did more things which made him hate more of himself who even thought he deserved to live ?

And another innocent will be punished just because they dared to raise their voice against unjust.

Flashback..

The morning breeze of the capital layed still in the afternoon sunlight grazing in the over crowded streets of Delhi. The housing chambers having protests all overs due to the absence of governor. In the large hall which led through the huge corridor lightened by the blazing heat as much as it could muster up as it made its way through the black clouds that shielded the sun.

Even being the hall was large and twice as three basket ball courtyard he still felt suffocating as all the air have been knocked out of his puncturing lungs. Breathing was turning hard. Standing there in between these people in their service. Risking their lives.

He felt disgusting and filthy but that needed to be done. After all what more bad could happen with him? The voices echoed in his eardrums piercing through the veins hurted his soul. He felt blow after blow but dare let anything show on his extremely beautiful face. While standing there in between hundreds of whites.

The professional yet throaty voice of Edward Lambert the security officer echoed in the giant hall. As the sepoys the ones who were just there to enjoy show the ones who were being discriminated yet followed orders and the ones who had to serve another nation putting Stone on their heart while watch and be living witnessing their country's down fall.

The chair persons the churchils and governors of Bengal Madras and Bombay being the sub ordinate to the governor of Delhi listened with somewhat annoyance yet showed they cared after all everyone was hungry for power eyeing the throne of Delhi like prey?

But had to maintain that facade to show how much they cared about each other.

"And that's the gist of it we have a hunter targetting the governor roaming free in Delhi we shouldn't be really bothering about imbecile tribes however our good friend the Nizam, thinks they might trouble us and since this conercerns the governor we should act on it and with a good deal of bother "

Edward paused pacing around the wooden platform with somewhat concern evident the lack of melanin in their body didn't even gave them a good eye colour. As he looked at Peterson maculey the governor of Bengal briefly. " Alright Sir we will apprehened this bugger" Martin George the public prosecutor said in a very passionate tone as if trying to show his enthusiasm and loyalty to British Empire.

Edward tilted his head as Martin stood up from his chair his head high in a hope of getting most confidential information his voice again asked " Though I would rather roast this swine on a bed of coals"

The hall which was silent by now erupted into praises as claps echoed in a void of distance irritating Ram's ear more than it ever could his blood boiled like lava as his grip tightening around his wrist. He chanted under his breath to calm himself down. As all praised Martin for his words. Some gave him disgusting and filthy looks looks being a brown Indian soldiers had their own disparity and discrimination.

But who could understand him ?

Edward sat back in his chair with the satisfaction. Adjusting the buttons of his coat as Martin raised his hand "let us have the file sir" he demanded.

Edward leaned forward trailing off all a sudden struggling with the correct choice of words.

" well, yes that's the catch officer we have nothing on him" his lips in a thin line bore a hole in the table and then stared at Martin who gave him a look of disbelief. Twitching his right eye he shifted in his feet .

" You mean nothing?" He asked one more time to confirm if he heard right. Edward scowled looking down as Martin paused and again threw.

" identifying features? Criminal history?" He asked still unsure.

In response the British man leaned onto the table without using any words showing the extreme level of lack of information about the "hunter" they had planned to catch.

Martin who looked way too confident till now turned around and sighed taking his seat back not knowing what to say.

The senior police officer who sat on the other chair of member of chairman turned to look at Edward " it's quite an impossible task"

" how the hell are we supposed to catch him ?" Another person the organiser of the committee immediately added in a helpless and questioning tone.

The room which was echoing in a complete absolute silence under the humid breeze which made Ram's skin itchy and the room was waving in the silence suddenly went feral that could make a normal person hear the sound of the pin falling . Was now replaced by hushed murmurs everyone was beyond shocked and confused that how they didn't had any information regarding this matter.

The police men started talking among themselves asking what kind of thing was happening hushed whispers echoed "Do they expect us to capture a tribal with no criminal history ?" Officer's said to each other.

Until the woman with strawberry blonde hair the wife of governor general scott Catherine who sat on top of the red velvet throne like chair stared at the people. Her wrinkled face showing off her falling age but the evil that masked behind that face was unknown to the best. Her witchy eyes spoke of attitude the way she despised the skin colour brown was beyond any understanding. To shut the mouths she spoke in a loud authoritative voice for every person to hear.

" the one that accomplishes the impossible will be promoted to the. Rank of special officer "

Her voice stated Edward looked at her questioning his ability of hearing Martin, George was completely astonished to hear the set of words coming from Lady Scott. Silence

Complete silence engulfed the whole room. As no one knew what to say.

" do you want him dead or alive ?" A husky voice with thick Indian accent said in a loud manner making a Shiver ran down from their spine. As it held a kind of power in itself. The series of officers who were standing in front of the owner of the voice and Ram came out visible in the gaze of lady Scott.

The ruthless lady eyed him up and down as soon as he came into view.

Based on the perspective either she was checking him out like he was a piece of meal or either like a dirt to crush under her feet just because he was brown and an Indian. The Police head looked at Ram in amusement his eyes wide . Taking a deep breath he made his way to lady Scott and leaned against her shoulder so as to speak slowly.

" I can vouch for this man if anyone can do the job it's him." With that he again made his way to his chair  Lady Scott nod barely recognisable her gaze still fixed to an emotionless ram who stood there like a statue waiting for the final orders. Her lips lifted up in a mocking smirk.

"You bring him dead, you recieve a bounty - you bring him alive you will be promoted to special officer" she said in a slow tone words flowed effortlessly from the filthy mouth of hers as Ram's eyes suddenly blazed with a uncombustable flame looking ahead of the world map printed on the front giant Wall. And England's flag printed on the colonised countries and continents he did the salutation. Exploiting those ones as well.

Bitching around the world according to normal mindsets.

For them it was like spreading their glory ? According to their self obsessed mindset.

But for those who were suffering. It was a beginning of a new era.

*.        *.         *.          *.          *.            *.          *.        *.        *.           *.         

Flashback ends..

When Niyati's feet stepped inside her 'home sweet home' it was already twilight the orange glory spread its beauty in the yamuna as water provided more beauty to the capital. Her steps were so soft that even cottons would be defeated. The drastic change in her personality was wonderous. Just a moment ago the lotus eyes woman was planning to show other's hell and now she walked as if even the ground floor will be in pain. With her head low she closed the door and turned around just to face her very dear husband.

Only the almighty God and she, herself knew how much it took her to lower her gaze and control herself from choking that man standing before her to death, with her head still standing low keeping up with the act of sweet innocent wife she was considered as. She step forward to walk away from his sight. As he never fancied acknowledging her.

The urge to slam him against a wall and kill him right away stabbing him with her now sharped dagger was eating her from inside . Her heart took the pace as Her sweet smell of gandhar Raj and morga was still in the monsoon breeze. The soft and subtle itra danced around the walls of the house. Just when calming down she was about to walk past him too disgusted to even see his face, she halted her pink pastel cotton saree was tugged behind her.

Her lotus eyes widened as if a new flower just bloomed out when she realised her so called husband dared to pull such stunt. Rage was a very small word to describe what she was feeling at that moment. Her heartbeat quickened as she fisted her soft hands against the cotton fabric of her saree kept reminding herself this wasn't the time to kill him. Never in a million years she expected this from someone like him.

He was digging his own grave by doing this. Relaxing her stiff back the black raven hair blew on her face making her huff " the fucking bastard" she thought as she gritted her teeth in fury. Clenching her jaw she closed her eyes shut taking a second before changing her face back to polite, blank face every housewife was expected to wear.

"My pallu -" she trailed off her voice slow hesitant wasn't her she didn't talked like that but she had to as she cringed internally at her own voice that she wanted to dig herself a hole sox feet under.

However much to her surprise, Ram walked past her his steps rushed and wanting to get away her perfectly threaded eyebrows met each other as she frowned but covered it within a blink of an eye. " it's stuck in the drawer" with that he walked away giving her the usual cold shoulder. Niyati's jaw dropped in shock instantly. She looked back and indeed her husband was right and honest. Gritting her teeth, she roughly tugged her pallu in annoyance and fury so hard that a half part were torn too. However she didn't care about that.

All she cared about was to trap this bastard so that she could save her precious motherland her features softener  as she thought about those farmers the memory lane went back to those precious people who shed their sweat so that they can have their meal and no one sleeps hungry? However she quickly hid it.

The poor family of them what would they going to do now as the only person who was the soul earner of the family went away.

What would their future going to hold how will they survive in this cruel world? Her eyes welled up as she shook her head she couldn't break right now. She still has to seduce this bastard without seducing him. Letting her messy bun open she quickly gathered those black lucious locks which touched her hips like mohini. She put it in a braid. Washing her hands and tugging the now wrenched pallu against her flat belly.

Rolling her eyes she entered inside the fairly large kitchen. Small mercies of life the kitchen was shining perfectly cleaned. Small mercies of life as none of them had either breakfast or lunch not that she cared about him.

Slowly making mental plans she started to sort her plans for tonight. She was going to make this man regret himself with every fibre of his being for the stunt he pulled and how many innocent lives he took by hook or by crook.

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