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nidhi-writes · 3 months ago

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CHAPTER - I | BEAST OUT OF HIM

MASTERLIST

The camp was alive with anticipation. Fires crackled, weapons were sharpened, and the warriors of Mahishmati prepared for the impending battle. The truth of Shivudu's lineage had sent shockwaves through the camp—he was Mahendra Baahubali, the true heir to the throne. For Shiya, this revelation had filled her with pride and determination. She had always known there was something special about her brother, but the weight of his destiny had taken even her by surprise.

Shiya, Sanga's daughter, was no trained warrior, but she was determined to stand with her brother and fight for the freedom of their people. She worked in silence, sharpening her arrows with precision. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions—loyalty, fear, and the burning need for justice. When she finished, she grabbed a jug and headed to the river to collect water for the journey.

The cool night air brushed against her skin, but it did little to calm her nerves. She was almost at the riverbank when something struck her from behind. Pain exploded in her head, and she crumpled to the ground, her vision darkening as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Shiya awoke in a cold, dark cell. The stone floor was damp beneath her, and a faint light filtered through a small barred window high above. She pushed herself up, wincing at the throbbing pain in her head. Panic set in as she realized her bow and arrows were gone, leaving her defenceless.

Her heart raced as she tried to piece together what had happened. She remembered the river, the sudden blow… and then nothing. Who had attacked her? Where was she?

Heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor outside her cell, each step sending a jolt of fear through her. The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside, casting a long shadow in the dim light.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, his presence commanding and intimidating. Shiya squinted, trying to make out his features. Something about the way he held himself, the way the shadows played over his face, made her breath hitch. He seemed older, much older—perhaps even older than her father—but there was a dark, unsettling magnetism about him.

“Who are you?” she demanded, forcing her voice to remain steady.

The man chuckled, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “You don’t know who I am?” he asked a hint of amusement in his voice. “How intriguing. It’s been a long time since someone didn’t recognize me.”

Shiya frowned, confusion warring with the unease she felt. Something about his voice, his presence, made her pulse quicken in a way she didn’t want to acknowledge. She pushed the feeling aside, cursing herself for such thoughts. This man was her captor, a cruel figure in the shadows.

“I don’t care who you are,” she retorted, though her voice wavered slightly. “Let me go!”

He stepped closer, and Shiya instinctively backed away until her back pressed against the cold stone wall. Now that he was closer, she could see the hard lines of his face, the dark eyes that bore into her with unsettling intensity. His presence filled the small cell, suffocating and overwhelming.

“You should care,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, almost intimate whisper. “I am Bhallaladeva, the king of Mahishmati.”

Shiya’s breath caught in her throat. He is the one she heard from Kattappa, the tyrant who had brought Mahishmati to its knees, the one who killed Amerandra Baahubali, her brother's father. But standing so close to him, she couldn’t help but notice his sheer power. His broad shoulders and the dark, almost predatory glint in his eyes made her feel small and vulnerable in a way she had never felt before.

The thought sent a flush of heat through her, and she cursed herself silently. How could she feel anything but hatred for this man? How could she let herself be affected by him in any way?

“A true King would never have to announce himself as a King. And the one who does cannot be one. You are nothing but a cruel man who has brought so much pain to my people,” she managed to say, trying to focus on her anger, on the injustice that had been done.

Bhallaladeva’s smirk deepened, but there was something else in his gaze now—something almost like curiosity. “Your people?” he echoed mockingly. “You’re just a villager. You have no claim to Mahishmati.”

Shiya’s heart pounded in her chest, but she met his gaze with all the defiance she could muster. “My brother, Shivudu, has a claim. And I will fight for him, for our people.”

Bhallaladeva’s expression darkened, the amusement vanishing from his eyes. But she noticed a flicker of something else—was it a surprise? Intrigue? “Your brother is nothing,” he hissed, leaning in closer. “He may have the blood of Baahubali, but he will fall like the rest, Like his own bloody father, by my own hands.”

Shiya’s breath quickened as he drew nearer, his presence suffocating, yet… Something in his nearness made her heart race for reasons she didn’t want to admit. She shook her head, cursing herself for feeling anything other than hatred. This was Bhallaladeva, the man who had caused so much suffering, and she couldn’t allow herself to feel anything but hatred.

“We’ll see,” she whispered, her voice filled with resolve.

Bhallaladeva studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching her face. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held a darkness that sent another shiver through her. His eyes turned to her lips, her plump and round lips inviting him, and his body sure did react to the cute little bird before him. He smirked at her.

“You’re brave,” he said finally, almost as if he were admitting it begrudgingly. “But bravery won’t save you.”

With that, he turned and left, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving Shiya alone once more in the darkness. She was shaken, not just by the encounter but by her reactions. How could she have let herself be affected by him, even for a moment? She clenched her fists, forcing the unwelcome feelings aside.

She had to escape, warn her brother, and fight for their people. The shadow of Bhallaladeva loomed large, but Shiya vowed that she would not let it consume her. She would stand strong for Shivudu, Sanga, and Mahishmati.

And no matter what, she would never forget the kind of man Bhallaladeva was, or so that she promised herself.

***

Bhallaladeva sat on his throne, the weight of the crown heavy on his brow. Mahishmati had stood unchallenged for years, its power unrivalled, its king unbowed. He was waiting for his son Bhadra to return with that wretch Devasena, who got away with the help of some foolish boy.

One of his most loyal guards, Nandha, entered the throne room with sadness looming in his eyes. Bowing deeply, he awaited Bhallaladeva's acknowledgement before speaking.

"My King," Nandha began, his voice laced with sadness, "We have sad news: our Prince Bhadra has been beheaded" hearing this news, Bhallaldeva stood up with anger evident in his eyes.

"What are you saying? Who did it?" He is ready to have his way with the one who caused him and his son pain." Nandha explained everything that happened, bringing Bhallaldeva to his knees, and his father beside him was also angry about the news. But before Bhallaldeva ordered anything, Nandha interrupted as he revealed, "But we have captured something invaluable that will ensure our victory without a single drop of blood being shed."

Bhallaladeva's eyebrow arched in interest. The guard's confidence was intriguing. "Show me this prize you speak of," he commanded, rising from his throne. He wanted to see for himself what Nandha believed could be so valuable.

The guard led him through the palace's winding corridors and down into the cold, damp dungeons, where the crown's most dangerous enemies were kept. As they approached a particular cell, Nandha gestured towards it, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Inside, Bhallaladeva saw a young woman, no more than twenty years old, sprawled on the floor, her long hair fanned out around her like a dark halo. Despite the cell's dirt and grime, her youth and beauty were undeniable. Her face was peaceful in unconsciousness, but there was an undeniable strength in her features that caught his attention.

A smirk curled at the corner of Bhallaladeva’s lips as he turned to Nandha. "Explain."

Nandha straightened, eager to please. "My King, this girl is the sister of Shivudu—the very man who beheaded your son Bhadra. I overheard Kattappa's revelations to this boy—Shivudu is no other than Mahendra Baahubali, the son of your greatest enemy, Amarendra Baahubali."

Bhallaladeva’s eyes darkened with fury at the mention of Shivudu’s name. The wound of losing his son Bhadra was still fresh, and now, to learn that the one who killed him was Amarendra’s spawn filled him with a burning rage.

Nandha continued, sensing his master’s anger. "This girl was with the rebels, preparing to march against you. I seized the opportunity and captured her, knowing she would be the perfect leverage. With her in our grasp, Mahendra Baahubali will surrender without a fight."

Bhallaladeva’s lips twisted into a cruel smile. "You have done well, Nandha. Very well, indeed. Guard the gates, close off the kingdom. No one enters or leaves without my command. Let them come, let them try to breach Mahishmati. They will find nothing but death and despair."

Nandha bowed deeply, his chest swelling with pride at the king’s praise. "It shall be done, my King."

As Nandha left to carry out his orders, Bhallaladeva remained, his eyes fixed on the girl in the cell. The thought of using her as a pawn in his game brought him grim satisfaction. But something more about her stirred an emotion he couldn’t quite place.

Hours passed, and word reached Bhallaladeva that the girl was beginning to wake. He wasted no time returning to the dungeons, eager to see how this little bird would react when she realized who held her captive.

As he entered the cell, he saw her stirring, her eyes fluttering open. She pushed herself up slowly, disoriented, and Bhallaladeva watched with a dark, silent amusement as she took in her surroundings.

When she finally looked up and met his gaze, he saw the confusion in her eyes, the way she didn’t immediately recognize him. That made him pause, an unfamiliar feeling creeping over him—was it... shyness? He dismissed it quickly, but not before the thought had planted in his mind.

“Who are you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the fear he knew she must be feeling.

Bhallaladeva chuckled, the sound reverberating through the small cell. “You don’t know who I am?” he replied, stepping closer, towering over her. “How intriguing. It’s been a long time since someone didn’t recognize me.”

She frowned, a flicker of defiance in her gaze that only intrigued him more. He had expected terror and submission, but this girl… was different. There was strength in her that drew him in despite the circumstances. He could feel his heartbeat quicken—a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Let me go!” she demanded, though he could hear the tremor in her voice.

He leaned in, his eyes locking with hers, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “You should care who I am,” he said, a sinister edge to his tone. “I am Bhallaladeva, the king of Mahishmati.”

He watched as her eyes widened in realization, fear finally creeping into her expression. But along with that fear, there was something else—something in how she looked at him that made his chest tighten. Was it… attraction? The idea was absurd, yet he couldn’t deny how his blood heated under her gaze.

Despite himself, Bhallaladeva felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in years—an awareness of his power, not just as a ruler, but as a man. The thought made him smirk, but it also unsettled him. This girl was his prisoner, a tool to be used against his enemies. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by anything else.

But as he turned to leave, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was different from anyone he had ever encountered. She wasn’t just a pawn but a challenge he couldn’t wait to unravel.

For now, he would let her stew in her fear and uncertainty. But soon, he would return. And when he did, he would ensure that she understood exactly who held her life—and her brother's fate—in his hands.

Bhallaladeva left the cell, his mind racing with thoughts of the battle ahead and of the girl who had, for a fleeting moment, made him feel something other than the cold, unyielding rage that had defined him for so long. But whatever that feeling was, it would not deter him from his purpose.

Mahendra Baahubali would come for his sister. And when he did, Bhallaladeva would be ready.

The sun hung low in the sky as Mahendra Baahubali, Devasena, Kattappa, Avantika, and their loyal followers marched towards Mahishmati. Devasena carried the severed head of Bhadra, her face set in grim determination. The image of vengeance incarnate, she was ready to end the tyranny of Bhallaladeva once and for all. Mahendra, walking beside her, was the very image of his father, Amarendra Baahubali, the legendary warrior who had once protected these lands.

As they approached the gates of Mahishmati, Mahendra’s likeness to his father was undeniable—his strength, resolve, and gait mirrored the great Amarendra. Bhallaladeva, watching from the high walls of his palace, felt a shiver of unease. It was as if a ghost from his past was marching towards him, ready to exact retribution.

But that moment of unease quickly faded as Bhallaladeva’s lips curled into a dark, twisted smile. He had a card to play, one that would shatter the resolve of this army of rebels. He turned to his guard, his voice a low, commanding growl. “Bring the little bird here.”

A short while later, the heavy iron doors of the palace creaked open, and Shiya was dragged out, her hands and feet bound in heavy chains. Her once vibrant eyes now reflected fear and defiance as she was forced to the front of the balcony where Bhallaladeva stood. He reached out, gripping her long, dark hair, and yanked her forward, ensuring she was visible to those below.

The rebels came to an abrupt halt. Their eyes widened as they recognized Shiya, Mahendra Baahubali's sister, bound and at the mercy of their enemy. Devasena’s heart clenched, her warrior’s facade faltering momentarily as she saw the young woman in such a vulnerable state. Mahendra’s hands curled into fists, his anger seething beneath his calm exterior.

Bhallaladeva’s smirk widened as he leaned down, his face close to Shiya’s. The scent of her hair filled his senses, and he revelled in the power he held over her—and, by extension, over the army below. He nuzzled his nose against her hair, feeling the involuntary shiver that ran through her body. Despite her defiance, he could sense her fear and something else—something she was desperately trying to suppress.

Shiya cursed herself inwardly for the way her body reacted to his touch. This man was a monster, cruel and ruthless, and yet his proximity ignited a confusing mix of emotions within her. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp as his teeth grazed the delicate skin near her ear. Bhallaladeva smiled wickedly, his dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"Take another step," Bhallaladeva’s voice boomed across the battlefield, "and you’ll be collecting your precious Shiya’s lifeless body." He tightened his grip on her hair, pulling her head back slightly to expose her neck, a silent threat that chilled the blood of those watching.

The rebels stood frozen, their plan in tatters. Mahendra and Kattappa exchanged glances, the need for a new strategy clear. They couldn’t risk Shiya’s life, not when she was so vulnerable. This wasn’t just a battle of swords and strength—it was a battle of wills, and Bhallaladeva was forcing their hand.

Satisfied with their hesitation, Bhallaladeva pushed Shiya back towards the palace's interior. His hand found its way to her neck, his grip firm as he forced her to follow him inside. Shiya stumbled slightly, her heart pounding with fear and confusion. Her mind raced, searching for a way to escape and warn her brother, but Bhallaladeva’s hold was relentless.

As they disappeared from view, Bhallaladeva’s mind buzzed with the thrill of his victory. The look of terror in the eyes of his enemies was intoxicating, but the woman at his side—this unexpected and intriguing little bird—added a new dimension to his triumph.

Mahendra and the others watched helplessly as the palace doors closed behind them. The sight of Shiya in chains, at the mercy of Bhallaladeva, left a bitter taste in their mouths. They couldn’t afford to lose her but couldn’t rush in blindly.

"We need a new plan," Kattappa murmured, his voice heavy with the weight of their situation.

Mahendra nodded, his mind already racing through possibilities. They had come so far, but now faced a ruthless and cunning enemy. Bhallaladeva had shown them that this battle would not be won by strength alone.

But one thing was sure—Mahendra would not rest until his sister was safe and Bhallaladeva’s reign of terror was ended. No matter the cost.

***

Inside the palace, Bhallaladeva led Shiya deeper into the labyrinth of halls, his grip never loosening. Shiya’s heart pounded as she tried to steel herself against her overwhelming situation. She couldn’t afford to show weakness—not to him or the man who held her fate.

But as she walked, she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, how his presence filled the space around her, and it took everything to keep her composure.

Bhallaladeva’s mind was already working on how to use this situation to his advantage. The little bird at his side was more than just a captive—she was a weapon he intended to wield with precision. And perhaps, along the way, he would find out just how much power he held over her.

For now, though, he would savour the victory he had already claimed. The rebels were at his mercy, and with Shiya as his leverage, Mahishmati would remain unchallenged, its throne unshaken.

But in the back of his mind, the image of Mahendra Baahubali haunted him—a reminder that the ghost of Amarendra was still alive, and this war was far from over.

And as for Shiya, he couldn’t help but wonder—how long before she would break under the weight of his will? Or perhaps, just perhaps, would she be the one to challenge him in ways he had never anticipated?

Only time will tell.

***

After being pulled away from the balcony where Bhallaladeva had held her in his grip, Shiya was led back into the palace. But instead of returning to the cold, dark cell she had been thrown into earlier, she was taken to a lavish chamber. The sudden change in her surroundings caught her off guard—how could her circumstances shift so drastically in such a short period?

The chamber was adorned with luxurious silks and rich items, starkly contrasting to the grim cell she had been kept before. Before she could process the situation, an elderly woman with a kind smile entered the room.

"I am Bangara Amma," the woman introduced herself, her voice soft and soothing. "I’ve been instructed to take care of you."

Shiya narrowed her eyes, suspicion immediately rising. How could one man, Bhallaladeva, be so mercurial? One moment, he was a predator, lurking too close, making her feel things she loathed herself for, and the next, he seemed to want to treat her like some cherished possession.

Bangara Amma guided her to the bathhouse connected to the chamber. Shiya reluctantly followed, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. As she was bathed and dressed in luxurious silks that clung to her skin, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being a prisoner in golden chains. The richness of the attire did nothing to ease her discomfort; it only heightened her awareness of the strange, twisted game Bhallaladeva was playing.

Left alone in the chamber again, Shiya immediately began searching for a way out. The walls were thick, the windows high and unyielding, but as she scanned the floor, something caught her eye—a sharp nail, probably left behind by accident. She quickly grabbed it and hid it in her hair, a reassuring weapon in the face of her helplessness.

She moved to the balcony, briefly considering the idea of escaping by climbing down. But the height was dizzying, and she realized with a sinking feeling that it was impossible—there was no way to scale down with just a saree. Before she could think of another plan, footsteps echoed through the chamber. She stiffened, knowing exactly who it was.

She faced the outside, trying to ignore the growing tension in her body as Bhallaladeva’s presence loomed behind her. She could feel the heat of his body even before he spoke.

"Not planning to jump, are we?" Bhallaladeva’s voice was laced with amusement as he chuckled softly.

Shiya kept her eyes fixed on the view, determined not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. "What if I did?" she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Bhallaladeva laughed, a deep, resonant sound that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer until she could feel his breath on her neck, the proximity suffocating and intoxicating all at once. He was so close that the warmth of his body seemed to seep into hers, a sensation that made her knees weak. To her shame, a faint moan escaped her lips, but thankfully, it was too soft for him to hear.

"Well, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to my little bird, now would we?" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice sending a jolt through her entire being. Her cheeks flushed a deep red as she swallowed hard to maintain her composure.

"Why do you care?" Shiya managed to ask, turning her head slightly to look at him, though she regretted it immediately. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, and yet there was something else—something that made her pulse race even faster.

Bhallaladeva smirked, clearly enjoying her defiance. Despite the tremor in her voice, he could see that she was trying to stand her ground. His little bird was brave, even in her fear.

Without warning, he reached out, his hand wrapping lightly around her throat. He pulled her back against him, her body now fully pressed against his. Shiya gasped at the contact, the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of her saree, making her breath hitch.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path from her throat to her lips, the touch sending a shockwave of unwanted desire through her. Shiya’s knuckles turned white as she gripped the railing, her body betraying her mind’s refusal to acknowledge his effect on her.

"I care for what is mine," Bhallaladeva whispered, his voice dark and possessive. "And my little bird, everything that ventures into my kingdom belongs to me. That includes you."

Just as he loomed above her, merely away from her lips as his breath covered her face, causing her to tremble inside, a part of her wanted his lips on her and wanted to taste him and have his way with her.

With that, he released her, stepping back as if nothing had happened. But Shiya was left trembling, her chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. Her mind was a whirl of confusion and fear, her innocence tarnished by the dangerous man who now claimed her as his own.

As Bhallaladeva left the chamber, Shiya collapsed against the balcony railing, her heart pounding. What had she become in this short span of time? A prisoner? A pawn? Or something more twisted—something she didn’t even want to think about?

But what scares her is that her body and mind are trying to betray herself and others to be with him and have what she craves. HIM

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chameli · 1 year ago

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thinking about some parallels between baahubali & jawan, specifically regarding mahendra and azad.

both characters lost a parent: amarendra baahubali was killed the same day mahendra was born and aishwarya was hanged right after azad turned five.

mothers imprisoned after their husband was killed: devasena was held captive by bhallaladeva after amarendra was killed. aishwarya was sent to prison after vikram was presumed dead. also, devasena & aishwarya were badass women who fought and stood up for themselves.

raised by a foster mother: mahendra (shivudu) was raised by sanga while kaveri amma took in azad after aishwarya's death.

both characters met their surviving parent when they were adults: mahendra was finally reunited with devasena when he was about 25. azad was in his 30s when vikram came back into his life. both parents were significantly old at this point.

honoring the legacy of the deceased parent: mahendra vowed to avenge his father and take back the throne of mahishmati, plus make bhallaladeva pay for keeping devasena captive as a prisoner. azad kept aishwarya's promise to prove his father's innocence and provide justice to the oppressed.

lead actors playing both father and son: prabhas as amarendra & mahendra baahubali and srk as vikram & azad rathore.

#this has nothing to do with anything but prabhas & srk are both scorpios lol #baahubali #jawan #anyway i love both of these films so much

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neengareadynaaready · 10 months ago

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Salaar Part 1 (FULL SPOILER-Y REVIEW)

I finally saw Salaar on Netflix, and as promised, I am going insane over the guys Varadeva.

MUSIC

Music is by Ravi Basrur, same guy who did the scoring of KGF. Let me start by saying that I absolutely loved the songs of KGF. They were high-energy songs perfect for getting yourself hyped up for something. I went into watching Salaar expecting the same thing, but I was proven wrong.

The songs in Salaar are actually more varied. The children in the school singing, "Prathi Gaadhalo" gave me goosebumps. I applaud the fact that Ravi Basrur has such range and versatility in the music he composes and arranges but you can still see his signature in his creations.

KGF & SALAAR?

Speaking of signatures... The visuals are beautiful. Obviously, Prashanth Neel's style is coming through in KGF and now Salaar. Also, there was something in the way the story is told to Shruti Haasan's character, just like how Rocky's story is narrated in KGF.

90% (or more) of mass action films have a flashback portion where the hero's backstory is revealed. In most cases, it's to clarify the hero's motivation or to show us his heroism/what he suffered/his traumas, etc.

In Salaar and KGF, the flashbacks are the entire story. In KGF, it's through an interview for things that happened in the past. In Salaar, the present and the past are more connected. It reminded me of Baahubali Part 1 where the present-day events make up the first half before we then dive into the entire backstory of Amarendra Baahubali. Mahendra's/Shiva's story in the present only really starts in the 2nd movie.

So this is where my ramblings lead to: we all know SS Rajamouli is thinking on a bigger scale. He's thinking epics. With KGF and Salaar, it feels like Prashanth Neel is gearing up for that, too. A lot of the people who dismissed KGF said it was because it was style over substance, which I'm fine with, to be honest, because what PN was trying to do in that movie was obvious, from the storyline to the music especially. He was trying to create a legend, the Legend of Rocky Bhai. Even if the story is not that unique and/or cringe, the fact is Rocky Bhai will now go down in history as one of the most unforgettable mass action characters of Indian cinema.

Here, in Salaar, we get a new world. It is in Khansaar where our epic unfolds.... (At least that was the vibe I was getting while watching.) I mean, Prithviraj said Salaar had Game of Thrones vibes. I'm a sucker for court politics in an interesting new world, so I was hooked. Also, that revelation of Deva being the rightful heir to the throne? C'mon, it's obvious, but it's a classic for a reason. It's such good angst and how Varadha and Deva navigate this revelation when it's revealed to everyone in Part 2 is gonna be amazing.

VARADHA and DEVA

In general, I think most of the characters are very interesting. Not gonna lie, I lost track of some of them midway through the movie. I was consumed by Varadeva every time they were both on screen.

Look, I kinda wished Ranga was still alive so there's that one character that has it out for Varadha and Deva would have to come to his rescue again in Part 2. Anyway, he was an interesting character because he spiraled so fast, and he was always clinging to Rudra's arm and going "I have never asked you for anything since childhood. I want Varadha." and then he was bawling his eyes out, like what a certifiably insane character.

Prabhas and Prithviraj's interactions were really very interesting and fun. I wish we had more. They bantered while fighting, and you can feel they're the type to make fun of each other and have fun. But you can also see how much they truly care for each other that time when Naarang was wielding his sword. They're like, "No, kill me, spare him." DUUUUUUDE. I loved that.

And when Varadha made up his mind, Deva was ready to support him. Who knows what's gonna happen in Part 2.

Action is okay. Was very nice to see them fight side by side.

OVERALL

The cast of characters, the story, the premise, the subplots going around... I'm excited for Part 2!

#salaar #varadeva #telugu cinema

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ambidextrousarcher · 1 year ago

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She would think of him as an imposter, because he’s not her brother. He’s not her beloved, regal, compassionate twin. You sketch Gauri’s trauma so well that I can almost see her in front of me!

We'll say hello again (Nevermind the chasm between us) 2

Gauri holds on to the memories that would have otherwise been a spear in her heart. She holds on to the voice of her husband, the looks of her brother and the embrace of her mother, the laughter of her sister-in-law. She holds onto these memories so tightly, she feels bruises on her very soul. Her gums ache with want every time she thinks, Mahadev, if only you gave us mercy.

When it's the dead of the night, her eyes are brimmed red and Bhabhi is hunched over, trying to hide the sorrow that closes her heart at the thought of her son, Gauri only wishes that she could free them. She wishes she could whisk bhabhi away and make her the Queen of unoccupied lands down South. Gauri wishes, impossibly, to surrender herself to the waterfall after making her bhabhi a Queen (as she should have been, years ago).

Gauri, she hears her brother's voice in her mind. It sounds as if he's fond and exasperated by her. You shouldn't wish things that are impossible—

He stops speaking when there's loud footsteps in the courtyard. Gauri's head snaps up, a snarl on her face. Who dared interrupt her brother?

It's him.

At first, Gauri thinks he's a hallucination. Bahu stopped speaking so he could come look at her in the eye. She scratches at her chained forearm, makes noise that snaps the young man's attention to her and oh.

That's not Bahubali. It's not.

Amrendra has never looked at her like that. Like he doesn't recognise her. Even when she had told him that Bhalla was too influenced by their uncle, even when he didn't believe her, even when she confessed to him about how much she loved her own sworn shield, Bahubali has never looked at her like he was a stranger.

This is another punishment, Gauri thinks distantly as the man fights the guards that are running for him. She feels like Mahadev is sneering at her for wishing for mercy. If that was the look her brother's lookalike had given her, Gauri prefered to never see him again.

She will prefer the fondness of a corpse than the unrecognition of a living man.

Whoever the man is, he's strong. He throws off the soldiers off of him quickly and strongly. His fighting style is primitive, unlearnt. He leaves half of his body uncovered whenever he turns. It cements the fact that he's not Amrendra. Gauri feels acute relief and disappointment together. He frees bhabhi, desperate and quick. He comes to her.

Gauri doesn't hide her flinch very well.

The man falters for a moment before beginning his mission anew, grabbing away at the chains. He's surprisingly fast at it, easily putting his experience with bhabhi at use. As soon as the chains are out of the pillar, he circles her, pulling the chains away from her body. She wonders if she will fall if she's not chained to the pillar anymore. The shock makes her feel numb.

"Please, come, fast!" His voice has an accent. Amrendra's was rich, regal, enunciated. This man speaks in clipped words with a sharp accent. Gauri doesn't think much more as she stumbles, grabbing her equally stunned bhabhi by the arm and following this man.

The young man doesn't know how to handle horses, let alone a chariot, she learns soon enough. That doesn't take from the ache that is spreading down her lungs, the look he gave her still carved in her mind. He's not Amrendra, Gauri thinks to herself as they make sharp turns. He's not. He's not.

Amrendra is dead. Maa killed him. Mama killed him. Bhallaldev killed him. Amrendra's heart killed him.

Gauri looks at her hands. Now coarse and callous, they once healed Amrendra after the Kalkeya War. The blood that goes numb in her hands is the one she shares with her brother. Dead or alive, her brother. Not this man. Her brother.

They move through fire and it acutely makes her relive what is in her heart. Gauri keeps her eyes closed, and wishes. Yearns. Her Amrendra, her dearest. Her Bhairav. Her beloved.

____________________________________________________

Gauri doesn't know when or how she loses conciousness. All she knows is, when she wakes up, they're in a field and she's lying down.

The field.

Her hands burn. The individual chains on her hands that the imposter didn't manage to remove hold her down. There's a burning log near her face and a distinctly foot weighed weight on her throat. The fire blinds her eyes and she can't see farther than it but. She hears. There's Bhadra somewhere, that horrible child, and he's calling bhabhi things that Gauri wouldn't dare repeat even in her mind. A loud groan of a man follows. There's thunder somewhere.

(Bhairav, she thinks hysterically, do you like the thunder still?)

A chain rattles somewhere further than his voice and there's a loud thud of something falling down and a clang of a sword.

A longsword by the sound of it. There's another clang and Bhadra shouts. The other groan turns into a snarl. Suddenly, the fire in front of her face disappears. The foot on her throat stays. There's light dancing behind her eyelids and she breathes. Thanks Mahadev.

The chains in her hand feel more real than ever and she begs. If I've ever been good, Mahadev, if I've ever done anything to please you, give me strength. She wraps her fingers around the excess chains silent and takes a deep breath.

There's a loud thud and she hears Bhadra begging for protection from Katappa. Mama tells him that he will be the shield between that brat and the impostor. Gauri clenchs her teeth. Isn't this what he told Bahu too? Her fingers are cold and the chains are colder but with the last thought of her brother, Gauri forces her hands in a forceful upward arc and hits the chains on the leg on whoever was standing on her throat. He limps away, falling, and she instantly breathes easier.

She coughs, feeling the soreness of her throat being to follow. The man, a simple soldier, tries to rush towards her. Desparately, Gauri grabs the nearest stone and hurls it at his chest. Surprised and happy when she remembers she still has her skills. Rusted, but there. Muscle memory.

He unleashes the dagger from his waistband and leaps towards Gauri. She rolls away, leaving him to land harshly on the uneven field. As quick as she can be, as thuder rolls the sky, Gauri loops her arms over his head and lets her chains strangle him, pulling all the strength she can muster. She feels the ache spread from her throat to her joints and the strain of holding a grown man down is hard on her she needs to.

It's been a while since she's had alta on her hands. If not alta, she will colour her hands with blood.

On the field that Bahubali died on, others will die too.

Tears cloud her eyes and she basks in the gurgling sound the man makes. He scratches at her arms and draws blood but it's nothing that Gauri hasn't already done to herself.

My brother died. My brother died. My other half. My twin. My elder brother died. You should too. My brother. My brother.

My beloved. My husband died. My husband died. My everything. My happiness. My husband. My husband died. You must.

She doesn't care for the grunts and yells she hears in the background. Everyone else can die for all she cares. Her brother died. Why should they live?

The first person she kills in twenty five years, dies in her lap.

She licks her gums. Want of blood rises again.

It's when she hears another set of chains rattle that she looks away from the dead body in her lap.

Bhabhi.

She standing there on uneasy feet, almost stumbling and falling over. Gaur throws off the man and helps herself up with the support of a boulder.

Katappa is running and so is the imposter. Siddha, Katappa's horse that her Bhairav gifted him is running as well. The gold of Bahubali's longsword horse pommel is obvious on Siddha. Even when her sore throat hurts, Gauri doesn't speak to tell Katappa that the imposter is a good boy. Her words are curses that fly because no one but her had the privilege to even touch Amrendra's sword and here is Mama, using the sword as if it's his.

It is Amrendra's. Gauri costomized it for him, damn it.

The imposter jumps over Katappa and removes the sword from its decorated scabbard. He holds the sword wrong, in a way that will leave the horse markings on the side of his palm, but Gauri isn't fixated on that. He's running behind Bhadra.

"You dare." Gauri croaks to herself, eyes narrowed. Satisfaction fumes in her as Bhadra runs and even the sacrilege of using Amrendra's sword is a lesser priority when she sees what happens.

The imposter cuts Bhadra's head clean off.

Somewhere in the distance, thunder strikes.

____________________________________________________

Tagging: @alhad-si-simran @o-merebholebalam @multifandom-boss-bitch @satanicallysatanicchild because they wanted me to

Also, yes, Gauri (full name Gauraangi btw) calling Mahendra an imposter is completely intention. Do tell me if y'all want some aesthetics, I'm itching to make some for my girl Gauri and Bhairav. Reviews are very welcome!

Part 1 here

#baahubali #fic rec #original characters #mahendra #ain’t waiting for bhairav lol #where’s amarendra?

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carminavulcana · 5 years ago

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This piece started out as an answer to a prompt given by @nith97 . Based on a really interesting conversation with @ruminationsofaraven , I have decided to continue writing this story. The premise is that Amarendra raises Mahendra as a single parent after Devasena comes between him and Katappa, thereby sacrificing he own life for the sake of her husband.

Amarendra Baahubali is like a son and a father-figure to the people of Mahishmati. What happens when fatherhood truly knocks at his door? How does he raise a child when the love of his life has been snatched away from him by the very people who claimed to love him?

Excerpt:

He indeed saw her everywhere that night. In his own rage that reduced Bhallaladeva to an unrecognizable mass of flesh and blood. In Sivagami’s shame as she stepped down from the position of the Queen Mother. In Bijjaladeva’s grief when he saw the remains of his son’s body. And in the relief that only came from Mahendra’s reassuring cries as he screamed for milk.

Mahendra. His last link to the only true connection of his life.

The midwife suggested goat’s milk for the infant. A wet nurse from could have been arranged from a nearby village. But he didn’t trust anyone. Even now, he milked the goat himself and fed his son with his own hands.

As much as he loved and respected Katappa, the old man had lost his trust the moment he agreed to commit murder on Sivagami’s orders.

A rational part of Baahubali’s mind knew he was being needlessly harsh. It wasn’t Katappa’s fault that he was bound to the throne.

But that did not take away from the bitterness of that night. Nor did it lessen the pain of what had been lost forever.

Every breath he took, was a moment stolen from Devasena’s unlived years. Sometimes, he wished he had been killed that night instead of her. Perhaps, then, she would have taken Mahendra and run away. Perhaps, his son would have grown up in a small hamlet somewhere, unbothered by the burdens of Mahishmati’s crimes.

Note: This part of the story has been posted to Tumblr already. I am working on the next chapter. It should be up soon.

#baahubali fics #Amarendra Baahubali #Mahendra Baahubali

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carminavulcana · 5 months ago

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Except BJP is NOT Baahubali! BJP is Bhallaladeva 🥲. And we, poor Indians, have been Devasena for the last 10 years. Finally, Mahendra Baahubali (INDIA Alliance) is starting to mature into the leader that will hopefully get rid of Bhallaladeva for good!

uncles on whatsapp are hurt and it shows😭

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nidhi-writes · 2 months ago

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CHAPTER - II | BEAST OUT OF HIM

MASTERLIST

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As nightfall blanketed the kingdom of Mahishmati, the tension among the rebels grew palpable. Mahendra Baahubali gathered his closest allies around the campfires. The palace loomed in the distance, which had to be breached to rescue Shiya and bring down Bhallaladeva.

Devasena stood beside her son, her heart heavy with worry for Shiya and Sanga, who were back in the Village praying for their victory; how she would let down the poor mother who made sure to save and protect her child Baaubali is all Devasena could think. Though her resolve was unshakable, the fear of what Bhallaladeva might do to the girl gnawed at her. Avantika, ever vigilant, kept a close watch on the palace, her mind working through how they could rescue Shiya without jeopardizing their mission.

Mahendra turned to Kattappa, the seasoned warrior who had faithfully served his family for years. "We need a way in," Mahendra said, his voice firm. "We must free Shiya, but we can't rush in blindly. Bhallaladeva will be expecting us."

Kattappa, his face etched with the wisdom of experience, nodded. "The palace is a fortress, heavily guarded and nearly impenetrable. But there are ways that few know about—secret passages built long ago for emergencies."

The group leaned in closer, listening intently as Kattappa continued. Trying to see if they can find a way to reach the sister of Baahubali

***

Shiya paced restlessly around the lavish chamber that had become her prison, her mind racing with thoughts of escape. The ornate walls and luxurious furnishings did little to comfort her; they only served as a stark reminder of her danger. Bhallaladeva's unsettling presence still lingered in her mind, his touch and words haunting her thoughts.

She glanced around the room, her eyes darting from the heavy wooden door to the high balcony that offered no escape route. Frustration welled up inside her. How could she let herself be captured like this? How could she have allowed herself to feel anything but hatred for the man who held her captive? She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. There was no time for self-pity or confusion; she needed to think clearly and find a way to get word to her brother, Shivudu.

As she scanned the room again, something caught her eye—a flutter of wings above. She saw a pair of pigeons perched on the balcony's roof. Her heart skipped a beat as she noticed the small bolts tied to their legs. These weren't just pigeons but messenger birds trained to carry messages long distances.

A surge of hope coursed through her veins. He would know where to find her if she could get a message to Shivudu. But she needed something to write, and the room had no ink or paper. She bit her lip, thinking quickly. Her eyes fell on the torn edge of the curtain hanging near the window— it could serve as makeshift paper.

Shiya pulled out the sharp nail she had hidden in her hair earlier, her fingers trembling slightly as she pricked the tip of her finger. A drop of blood welled up, and she winced at the pain but quickly pressed her finger to the fabric, writing out a message as best as she could with her blood.

She worked quickly, the urgency of her situation driving her hands to move faster. Once the message was complete, she tied the bloodstained fabric securely around the leg of one of the pigeons. Taking a deep breath, she whispered to the bird, willing it to understand the importance of its task.

"Please, find him. Find my brother," she whispered, her voice filled with desperation.

The pigeon cooed softly before taking flight, its wings cutting through the night air as it soared away from the palace. Shiya watched it until it disappeared into the darkness, her heart heavy with hope and fear. She could only pray that the bird would reach Shivudu in time and that her brother would understand the message and come to rescue her before it was too late.

As Baahubali and the others prepared for their final assault on Mahishmati, they gathered around a small fire, strategizing to breach the palace's defences. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their mission pressing down on them. Each person knew the stakes—they were not just fighting for revenge but for the liberation of their people and the rightful return of the throne.

Suddenly, a soft rustling interrupted their discussion. A pigeon landed near the group, its wings fluttering as it settled on a rock beside them. Mahendra Baahubali's sharp eyes immediately noticed the small piece of fabric tied to its leg, darkened by what looked like ink—or something else. He quickly reached for the bird, carefully untying the message.

When he unfolded the fabric, his brow furrowed in confusion. Instead of clear writing, the message was a crude drawing, barely legible. The shapes were rough, the lines uneven, but something about it seemed oddly familiar. He showed it to Devasena, Avantika, and Kattappa, hoping for some insight.

Kattappa's eyes widened as he studied the drawing more closely. The old warrior's hand shook slightly as he recognized the scene depicted in the crude, blood-drawn image.

"This... this is the chamber that overlooks the river," Kattappa said, his voice low but firm. "I know this place. It is one of the secluded rooms in the palace, hidden from the main pathways and nearly impossible to access."

Baahubali looked at Kattappa with a mix of relief and urgency. "Are you sure, Kattappa? Is there any way we can reach it without being detected?"

Kattappa nodded. "It won't be easy. The chamber is heavily guarded, and the entrance is well-hidden."

Baahubali clenched his fists, feeling a surge of protectiveness for the sister. Shiya, though not bound to him by blood, was still his sister by heart, and he would not let Bhallaladeva use her as a pawn.

This time, Bhallaladeva's cruelty would not go unanswered.

***

Shiya winced as she tried to stop the bleeding from her finger, realizing too late that she had pricked herself harder than intended. The makeshift bandage she had created from the torn curtain was quickly soaked with blood, and her attempts to stem the flow only seemed to make it worse.

Suddenly, the door to the chamber swung open, and Bangaru Amma entered, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the scene. The elderly caretaker had been tasked with looking after Shiya, but she hadn't expected to find the young woman injured.

"What have you done, child?" Bangaru Amma exclaimed, rushing to Shiya's side. Without waiting for a response, she called out for assistance, her voice filled with urgency.

As the night deepened, Shiya sat alone on her chamber's balcony, tears streaming down her face. The once vivid hope that her message might reach her brother had faded into a gnawing despair. The bleeding from her finger had finally stopped, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional torment she endured. She desperately yearned for any sign indicating help was coming, but the silence was deafening.

The cool night breeze did little to comfort her as she stared out into the darkness, her mind replaying the terrifying events of the day. How could everything have spiralled out of control so quickly? How had she ended up in the clutches of a man as cruel and relentless as Bhallaladeva?

Her sombre reflection was abruptly interrupted by Bangaru Amma's soft, concerned voice calling her from the doorway. Shiya quickly wiped her tears, attempting to compose herself as the elderly woman approached.

"Come, child," Bangaru Amma said gently, her tone laced with concern. "You need to eat. The King is waiting."

Shiya's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Bhallaladeva. Confusion and dread twisted her insides as Bangaru Amma led her out of the chamber and down the dimly lit corridors. Her thoughts raced, wondering what fresh torment awaited her.

Shiya's breath caught as they entered the grand dining room. At the head of the long, elaborately adorned table sat Bhallaladeva, his piercing eyes fixed on her. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

Shiya hesitated, her feet rooted to the spot as she took in the sight of him. He looked almost regal, an imposing figure exuding an air of absolute authority. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across his sharp features, giving him an even more menacing aura.

"Sit," he commanded, his voice low and commanding.

Shiya reluctantly moved forward, her heart pounding in her chest as she sat at the far end of the table. She glanced nervously at the servants meticulously laying out a sumptuous feast before them. But before she could fully process what was happening, Bhallaladeva's voice cut through the air.

"Leave us," he ordered, and the servants instantly obeyed, hurrying out of the room without a word, leaving the two of them alone.

The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the soft clinking of Bhallaladeva's utensils as he began to eat. Shiya, however, remained frozen, staring down at the untouched food before her. How could she even think about eating when her thoughts were consumed by the dangers her family and friends were facing outside these walls? They were out there, risking everything to save her and bring down the very man sitting across from her. The mere thought of it made her stomach turn.

"What's the matter?" Bhallaladeva's voice, cold and laced with mockery, broke the silence. "Is the food not to your liking?"

Shiya's heart raced as she swallowed hard, struggling to find her voice. The food was the least of her concerns, but how could she explain that to a man like Bhallaladeva, who seemed to revel in her discomfort?

Her eyes darted nervously to the doorway, hoping for an escape, but she knew none. She was trapped here, and he was well aware of it. Every second in his presence felt like a dangerous game, one where she had no control and could only hope to survive.

Bhallaladeva's gaze remained fixed on her, waiting for an answer. When she didn't respond, he leaned back in his chair, a smirk on his lips. "You seem distracted, little bird. You should eat. After all, you'll need your strength."

Shiya's hands clenched into fists under the table as she forced herself to meet his gaze. His words were meant to unsettle her, and they succeeded. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. Taking a deep breath, she replied, her voice trembling slightly, "I'm not hungry."

Bhallaladeva's smirk widened, clearly amused by her defiance. "Not hungry? Or perhaps you're too worried about your little friends out there? I assure you, they won't be able to help you."

Shiya's stomach churned with a mix of fear and anger. She hated how he toyed with her, how he seemed to take pleasure in her suffering. But she couldn't let him see how deeply his words affected her. Instead, she forced herself to remain composed, even as her heart screamed with anxiety for those she loved.

"They'll come," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper but with a conviction that surprised even her. "They'll come for me."

Bhallaladeva's eyes flashed with a mixture of irritation and amusement. "We'll see about that," he murmured, his tone dark and ominous.

As the tense silence stretched on, Bhallaladeva continued eating, his sharp eyes occasionally glancing at Shiya, who still hadn't touched her food. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap, and the flickering candlelight cast shadows on her pale, worried face.

Suddenly, Bhallaladeva broke the silence, his voice deceptively calm but laced with malice. "You know, Shiya, I've been thinking," he began, leaning back in his chair. "About your brother."

Shiya's heart skipped a beat at the mention of her brother. She forced herself to remain still, unwilling to show him how much his words affected her. But she couldn't stop the slight tremor that passed through her.

"Tell me," Bhallaladeva continued, almost casually, "is he truly the great brother you believe him to be? Or does he take all the glory and attention, leaving you in the shadows, aching for just a sliver of love?"

Shiya's eyes snapped up to meet his, her gaze filled with confusion and defiance. What was he trying to do? Was this just another of his twisted games, or was he trying to sow seeds of doubt in her mind?

Bhallaladeva smirked at her reaction, clearly pleased that he had struck a nerve. "I've seen it before, you know," he continued, his voice smooth and taunting. "Siblings who their more 'heroic' brothers overshadow. It can be... suffocating, can't it? Always being the one left behind, the one who has to fend for herself while her brother basks in the glory."

Shiya clenched her jaw, refusing to be drawn into his twisted narrative. "My brother loves me," she said, her voice firm despite the turmoil inside her. "He would never abandon me."

Bhallaladeva chuckled darkly, leaning forward slightly as he studied her. "Ah, love. It's such a powerful word. But love doesn't always mean equality. Sometimes, love means sacrifice. And sometimes, it means being left alone in the dark while your brother stands in the spotlight."

Shiya's chest tightened, her mind flashing back to memories of her childhood with Mahendra. He had always been protective of her, always the one to shield her from harm. But Bhallaladeva's words gnawed at the edges of her thoughts, twisting them into something dark and insidious.

Seeing the flicker of doubt in her eyes, Bhallaladeva pressed on, his voice a low whisper that seemed to echo in the vast dining hall. "Tell me, Shiya, when was the last time you truly felt seen by your brother? When was the last time he looked at you and saw you for who you are, not just as his little sister, but as a person with her own needs, her desires?"

Shiya's hands trembled slightly as she gripped the table's edge, struggling to maintain her composure. She knew what Bhallaladeva was trying to do, yet his words struck a chord deep within her. Mahendra had always been the hero everyone looked up to and destined for greatness. And she had always been... just his sister. The one in the background, the one who followed, the one who...

No. She wouldn't let Bhallaladeva manipulate her like this. She wouldn't let him poison her mind against her brother. Shiya took a deep breath, forcing herself to meet Bhallaladeva's gaze with newfound resolve.

"Mahendra is a good brother," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "He's always been there for me and always will be. You can try to twist things all you want, but you won't succeed."

Bhallaladeva noticed the tension in Shiya's posture, the way her hands gripped the table so tightly that her knuckles turned white. He could see the flicker of doubt in her eyes, the way her resolve wavered with each word he spoke. Sensing he was getting under her skin, he slowly rose from his seat and walked around the table, standing beside her.

"You know," he said softly, his voice a deadly whisper that curled around her like smoke, "it's not a crime to admit that sometimes you feel... overlooked. You wish you were the one your mother adored and who received all the love and attention."

Shiya's breath hitched, her eyes widening as his words hit too close to home. Memories from her childhood began to surface—moments when she had felt so alone, so overshadowed by her brother. She remembered how her mother's eyes lit up whenever Mahendra was near, how she seemed to pour all her affection into him, leaving Shiya with just the scraps. No matter how much she loved her brother, she couldn't deny the ache in her heart, the longing to be seen and loved just as much.

Bhallaladeva watched her closely, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he saw the tears begin to form in her eyes. "Yes," he murmured, his tone almost gentle now, "you've always been second, haven't you? Always in the background, always the afterthought. You've had to fight for every scrap of attention while he takes it all without a second thought."

Shiya's vision blurred as tears welled up, her heart twisting painfully with each word he said. The truth in his taunts was like a knife to her soul, cutting deeper than she ever thought possible. But even as the tears fell, her love for her brother remained steadfast. She loved him with all her heart, even if she had always been in his shadow.

But something inside her snapped. The pain, the frustration, the years of feeling like she was never enough—it all came boiling to the surface in a white-hot rage. With a scream of fury, she stood up abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor behind her. In one swift motion, she grabbed the plate in front of her and smashed it to the ground, the sound of breaking porcelain echoing through the room.

Before realising what she was doing, her hand closed around a knife set on the table. Driven by raw emotion, she lunged at Bhallaladeva, her eyes blazing with anger as she aimed the blade at his face. But he was quicker. With a smirk that showed just how much he had been waiting for this moment, he effortlessly caught her wrist, stopping the knife just inches from his skin.

Shiya struggled against him, but he was far too strong. He twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to drop the knife with a clatter. She gasped in pain, her tears flowing freely now as he used his other hand to grab her by the throat, tilting her head back so she was forced to look up at him.

"Ah, there it is," Bhallaladeva whispered, his voice filled with cruel satisfaction. "The fire I knew was inside you. But look how easily you break, little bird. How quickly you lose control."

He leaned in closer, his face inches from hers, his grip on her throat tightening just enough to remind her of his power. "Did you think you could hurt me?" he taunted, his smirk widening as he saw the fear in her eyes. "Do you see now how futile it is to fight me? How easily I can crush you, just like that?"

Shiya's breath came in ragged gasps, her chest heaving as she struggled to hold on to what little strength she had left. She hated him—hated how he had manipulated her, how he had pushed her to this breaking point. But more than anything, she hated how powerless she felt in that moment, entirely at his mercy.

Bhallaladeva's eyes gleamed with a predatory light as he studied her, his smirk never fading. He leaned in even closer, his breath hot against her ear as he whispered, "You can scream, you can cry, you can fight all you want, but in the end, Shiya, you belong to me. You always will."

With that, he released her abruptly, letting her stumble back, her hands instinctively flying to her throat as she gasped for air. She fell to her knees, her body trembling with a mix of fear, anger, and despair. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him, her heart pounding in her chest.

Bhallaladeva looked down at her, his expression one of cold satisfaction. "You're mine, Shiya," he said softly, almost tenderly. "And there's nothing you can do to change that."

As Bhallaladeva turned to leave, Shiya, still on her knees, felt a surge of desperation mixed with confusion. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, of the torment he was putting her through. Why her? Why was she the one he had fixated on? Gathering what little strength she had left, she called out, her voice shaky but determined.

"Why me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper at first but growing louder. "Why do you want me, Bhallaladeva? You could have anyone—someone who would willingly stand by your side. Why are you doing this to me? It's senseless... all these things you say, all this torment. Why?"

Bhallaladeva paused mid-stride, his back still facing her. There was only silence for a moment, the tension in the room so thick it was almost suffocating. Then, slowly, he turned around to face her, his expression inscrutable.

He approached her again, his footsteps slow and deliberate, each echoing ominously in the quiet chamber. Shiya's heart pounded as she watched him, her fear and confusion mixing into a chaotic storm of emotions. When he finally stopped in front of her, he looked down at her with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Why you?" he repeated softly as if contemplating the question himself. He lifted her chin with one finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Why not you, Shiya? Why not someone like you—so full of fire and spirit, yet so fragile beneath it all?"

His words sent a chill down her spine, but she didn't look away. "That's not an answer," she replied, trembling. "You're making no sense. You don't know me. You don't even care about me. So why...?"

Bhallaladeva's expression darkened, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. "You're right," he admitted, his voice low and dangerous. "I could have anyone. But it's precisely because I can have anyone that I choose you. Because you're a challenge, Shiya. Because you fight back. And because, despite everything, you don't bend easily to my will."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And that intrigues me. It excites me. You see, it's not about love or care, Shiya. It's about power. It's about breaking that spirit of yours and making you mine, completely and utterly. That's why you, Shiya. Because the harder you resist, the more satisfying it will be when you finally submit."

His words struck her like a physical blow, her heart sinking as the full weight of his intentions became clear. It wasn't about her, not really. It was about control, about domination. She was nothing more than a prize to him, a conquest to be won.

Shiya felt tears welling up in her eyes again, but she fought them back, refusing to let him see how deeply his words had wounded her. "You're a monster," she whispered, her voice shaking with fear and defiance.

Bhallaladeva's lips curled into a dark smile as if her words only confirmed his already-knowledge. "Perhaps," he said calmly, "but you're still mine, Shiya. And no amount of fighting will change that."

Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out of her mouth, fueled by a mixture of anger, desperation, and a desire to regain some sense of control over her life, even if it meant surrendering it.

"Why wait, then?" Shiya's voice, though shaky, rang out clear and sharp in the chamber's silence. Bhallaladeva froze with a look of mild surprise and interest. She could see the curiosity in his eyes as he observed her, but she pressed on before her courage could fail her.

"Why waste time?" she continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke. "If you want to break me, to make me yours, then do it. Show me who you are. Show me your power. Do whatever it is you want to do, Bhallaladeva. Because I'm tired... tired of waiting, of fearing what's coming next. If you want to break me, then break me. Just... get it over with so I can finally be free."

Her heart pounded as she finished, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She wasn't sure where this sudden courage had come from, but it was there, burning brightly within her. Perhaps it was the only way she could fight back—by confronting him head-on, calling out his bluff, and showing that she wasn't afraid of what he might do.

Bhallaladeva stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Slowly, a dark and dangerous smile spread across his face, somehow pleased.

"You think you can handle that, little bird?" he asked softly, his voice dripping with malice and amusement. "You think you can endure what I have in store for you? You're braver than I thought, Shiya... or perhaps just more foolish."

Shiya's pulse quickened, but she held his gaze, refusing to back down. "It's not about bravery or foolishness," she replied, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides. "It's about survival. If you're going to break me, then do it. But know this—I won't make it easy for you. I won't give in without a fight."

Bhallaladeva chuckled, a low, sinister sound that sent shivers down her spine. "Oh, Shiya," he murmured, his grip on her chin tightening just enough to make her wince. "You truly are a fascinating creature. So determined to hold onto your pride, even in the face of your own destruction."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he whispered in her ear, "But remember, this was your choice. You wanted to see my power... and I'll show it to you. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Bhallaladeva watched her for a moment longer, his smile never wavering. Shiya stood there for an eternity, her body trembling with fear and resolve. She had no idea what was coming next but knew one thing: she would face it on her terms, no matter the cost.

Bhallaladeva's gaze locked onto Shiya's lips, his eyes darkening with a mix of desire and something more dangerous. The tension between them crackled in the air, thick and suffocating. In the heat of the moment, before Shiya could process what was happening, Bhallaladeva closed the distance between them and smashed his lips against hers. Her breath ignited a fire that burned hotter than ever before. He effortlessly lifted her off the ground and placed them on the table, his grip firm and possessive.

The kiss was fierce, almost brutal in its intensity. Shiya was caught off guard and initially stiffened, but something within her snapped. All the anger, fear, and frustration she had been holding onto erupted, and she found herself kissing him back with equal fervour. Their lips clashed, a battle of wills as much as a physical connection, and for a moment, everything else faded away. Their tongues tangled in a passionate battle for dominance, teeth clashing with an intensity that mirrored their desire.

Bhalla's hands roamed freely over Shiya's body, tracing the curves of her waist and hips. The sound of their moans filled the room.

Shiya squirmed beneath Bhalla's touch, torn between surrendering entirely to his desires and clinging to what little control she had left. Her mind screamed for him to take charge, to ravage her senseless and leave no inch of her untouched.

As they finally pulled apart, their breathing ragged, Shiya's mind struggled to catch up with what had just happened. Her chest heaved with heavy breaths, and she realized with a jolt that her saree had become dishevelled in the chaos, barely covering her anymore. Bhallaladeva's eyes roamed over her, taking in the sight of her flushed cheeks, smudged lips, and the tears welling up in her eyes.

For a long moment, neither spoke; their laboured breathing was the only sound in the room. Shiya could feel the tears threatening to spill over, but she blinked them back, refusing to let him see her break. But the evidence of their passionate encounter was all too clear—her trembling body, the disarray of her clothes, and the lingering taste of him on her lips.

Bhallaladeva's expression was unreadable, but his eyes were filled with a hunger that terrified and enthralled her. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle given the roughness of what had just transpired.

"You truly are something, Shiya," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. His gaze flicked down to her heaving chest, then back up to her tear-filled eyes. "So much fire... so much spirit."

Shiya's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she wondered what would happen next. But instead of continuing, Bhallaladeva stepped back, his hand falling away from her face. He gave her one last lingering look, his smirk returning as he took in her dishevelled appearance.

"You may try to fight me, little bird," he said softly, almost as if to himself, "but in the end, you belong to me. No matter how much you resist... you will always come back to me."

With that, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Shiya standing there, her body still trembling from the intensity of their encounter. As the door closed behind him, the tears she had been holding back finally spilt over, and she sank to the floor, her hands covering her face as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

***

Shiya's moans grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the room. Bhalla, with his warrior's arms, held her in place and from moving away as his mouth worked on their sweet cunt of hers. His tongue worked its magic, exploring every inch of her cunt with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

Shiya writhed beneath him, her naked body arching as waves of ecstasy washed over her. Sweat formed on her forehead and trickled down the curve of her neck, evidence of the intensity of their passion. She doesn't remember how and why she got into this situation, but all her thoughts in her mind vanished when he placed his mouth on her to drink away her soul.

"Please...Ple.." Shiya whimpered, trying to form a sentence; her body couldn't take any more pressure, and everything was new. Bhalla could feel the heat radiating from her, fueling his own arousal.

But as he buried his face between Shiya's thighs, a fleeting hesitation flickered in his eyes. He pulled away slightly, looking up at her with a mischievous smirk. The sight caused Shiya's breath to catch in her throat, but she couldn't deny its effect on her.

"Is that all you've got?" Bhalla taunted playfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I expected more from my little queen."

Shiya squirmed beneath him, frustration mingling with desire. Her body craved his touch, but there was still a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

"Looks like your brother who couldn't finish his fight ow with me and only to be killed by mine. His sister is too weak to take the pleasure that a King gives to her" Bhalla's words caused SHoya to freeze. Her eyes flickered to the figure beside her—Baahubali, her beloved brother, lying motionless on the cold stone floor. His once vibrant eyes, full of life and determination, now stared lifelessly at the ceiling, blood pooling around his body.

"No..No!" Shiya screamed, which only agitated Bhalla as he laughed out loud.

Shiya awoke with a start, her breath shallow and uneven as her eyes looked around to find herself alone in the chamber, and it was all a dream. Bhallaldeva's touch lingered, his hands searing her flesh as if he had never left. She could still feel the way he had consumed her entirely, leaving her hollow and broken. She also could feel the pool of wetness that was in between her thighs; she bit her lips to whimper and to erase the sight of how her dream portrayed the death of her brother.

It's like Bhalla is the devil, and he is slowly consuming her. But the scary part is she liked and wanted more of him in her.

TO BE CONTINUED

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