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hum-suffer · 10 months ago

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We'll say hello again (nevermind the chasm between us) 15

Bhairav's birthday starts in a way that any normal day does.

He wakes up at dawn, gets ready, takes a trip to the Mahadev temple in the palace and goes to Princess Gauri's room. Yamuna nods at him in greeting with a tired smirk from her station at his Princess' door.

"A punctual guard, Bhairav. I like your consistency. I was just about getting tired." Yamuna smiles at him and pats his shoulder in what he assumes is a compliment. He's never understood the need to touch others without an objective.

(A voice in his head hisses,"Objective like harm."

He's forgotten what a tender touch means. He only touches to harm. He's a weapon.)

Still, he smiles back at Yamuna,"I don't want Harihar to complain to me about his wife being grumpy because she had to stand too long."

Yamuna shakes her head,"In that case, I'd have killed you for being late before he complained to you."

Bhairav raises a non-believing eyebrow at that. Yamuna rolls her eyes,"Fine. The only reason I wouldn't kill you is because I know that the princess would kill me too."

And Bhairav can kill Yamuna without a delay, is what they both don't say. She's been standing guard at the door for long hours, her mind bored and sight dulled with sudden brightness. He's well rested and ready. He's taller than Yamuna and is habituated to fighting in all circumstances. He has three daggers on him, and a sword that he sharpens every night, before going to sleep.

He can kill. He chooses not to.

(Does that mean he's not even a good weapon?)

Yamuna shakes her head and leaves, cheery and unaware of the dark turn that Bhairav's thoughts had taken. He takes his position by the door and relaxes his stiff posture. The princess would be leaving the room in some time, she wakes up early as well. And she will have to be earlier today, still. To show that governor around the palace.

Bhairav tries but he can't keep his distaste of the man away from his job, his princess. Something in the way the man looks at his princess makes him want to unsheathe his sword. He knows that he thinks out of line for a mere slave, yet, his princess has not only let him be impertinent but also encourages his absymal behaviour.

(He sometimes forgets the chasm that lies between them. He sometimes genuinely thinks that she is his friend. She is his devotion and duty. He is reminded of that everyday as walks with her spine straight and head high.)

Bhairav hears footsteps before he sees him.

Vijay. He's up and about, cheery and ready as he nears the princess' chambers with a spring in his step. Bhairav is nineteen. The same age that Vijay was when he married. And now, Vijay flutters around his princess, a young woman of eighteen, whilst he himself is thirty.

Bhairav wraps his distaste in forceful ignorance and puts it away in a box in his mind. He knows his face is neutral as the man nears and he struggles to keep it so when he presumptuously turns towards the princess' doors and bloody fucking knocks.

His sword is a serpent's tongue on his thigh as he steps between the door and the man and glares at Vijay. From the other side of the door, his Princess answers sharply,"Who dares?"

Vijay flinches at her tone and Bhairav can imagine the sharp way her kohl lined eyes would glance across the room in righteous anger as she notes that it is not Bhairav who has knocked. Bhairav has never received that particular tone, he thinks smugly. His princess somehow always knows when Bhairav is knocking.

(Bahubali doesn't knock. Bhallaldeva knocks once and enters before she can allow him. Bhairav knows.)

(Bhairav knows not that he knocks in a pattern. A two sharp knocks that make four soft thuds as his knuckles as well as his wrist hits the door when he knocks. He has copied his sister's way of knocking since he was but a child. He is unaware that no one else knocks in the same pattern. The perpetual bruise on the side of his wrist is but a footnote in his day.)

"Bhairav?" She calls from the chambers, tone commanding and of the woman who should have been Queen, if Mahishmati was women oriented.

His glare doesn't leave Vijay as he turns sideways and knocks. Instantly, his princess calls him in,"Enter, Bhairav."

He closes the door behind himself because he knows his princess will hate it if some stranger would dare to see her chambers— the rooms which could be called the heart of the palace, in Bhairav's humble opinion.

She's dressed in a light turquoise saree and her hair is open still, slightly damp from her bath, he assumes. She is standing near the hinges of the door, one hand holding the dagger that used to be Bhairav's and the other holding a scroll. She is tense but she relaxes halfway through when he closes the door behind himself.

In this moment, she is the perfect definition of Gauraangi Devi, the Princess of Mahishmati. Fierce, beautiful and clever.

Bhairav bows his head in greeting. "The Western governor is outside, my princess."

"Was he the one who knocked?" Bhairav can hear the dangerous undertone at his audacity and he knows that they're standing right at the door and if Vijay hasn't moved away, he can at least hear the whispers of her words.

Bhairav nods. "I apologise, my princess. He broke protocol and I was not alert enough for that."

He was. He was extremely alert enough. He could have drugged the man and dragged him into the dungeons if he so wished. But there is a part of him, a part that could very well get him killed one day, that wanted his princess to be angrier at the man. Bhairav knows he has added fuel to the fire of her irritation and made it anger.

He thinks it will not take even the whole day for anger to become wrath.

And he wants to rush the process along. He doesn't trust the way Vijay looks at her. She is not a price, but a treasure. Vijay looks at her like a lottery and Bhairav gets the distinct impression that he would treat her no better.

His princess finally relaxes completely and nods with a deep breath. "Tell him to wait," she orders firmly, slipping the dagger into her waistline. Visible and full of warning. She turns on her heel and walks towards the mirror in her room, running a hand through her hair to help dry it as she goes. Bhairav nods and bows, takes a step back before turning his back to her.

(Like he never instantly turns his back towards Durga in her temple.)

"Stop," she calls in a heavy voice. He can feel her frustration as he turns. She purses her lips and sighs, recomposing herself in front of his eyes. When she speaks next, she is the epitome of etiquette. "Tell his Excellency that I will see him in some moments and I regret the tardiness on my part."

Bhairav dislikes that she has to sweeten her words but he nods and takes his leave, eyes never leaving her as he leaves.

Vijay is still at the spot that Bhairav left him at and Bhairav resumes his glare as he relays his Princess' message to the unwanted man. Vijay seems positively smug when Bhairav mentions his Princess' apologies and waves his hand dismissively. "I'm sure she won't do it again," he murmurs to himself as he turns away from Bhairav.

For a delicious moment, Bhairav wants to unwrap his rage and let it kill the presumptuous man like a noose. But he maintains the control that he has always maintained, stoic and proud of his self control. He chooses instead to focus on the governor. Bhairav isn't impressed.

The man may be well built, but he clearly lacks patience as he shifts from one foot to another impatiently. There are no visible weapons on him but the multiple necklaces he wears are extremely easy to use to choke him. Such neglect towards oneself, and Vijay wants to court the princess of Mahishmati. If he can't take care of himself, how will he take care of his princess?

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His princess barely takes five more minutes before she is opening the door, hair braided in a simple side braid that is devoid of any accessories or flowers— because she did not have the time for them.

She nods at Bhairav and passes a more stoic nod to Vijay. "I again apologize for the delay, Mahoday."

"Please, call me Vijay. You are the princess, extremely above my station." He says, a bashful smile on his lips. "And do not fret, your highness. I know that women always take long to get ready."

Bhairav wants to bare his teeth and snarl at the man like an attack dog that many already call him. The man's negative bias over women is already clear and he doesn't deserve to be in the company of his princess. Bhairav keeps an iron grip on his self control and remains stoic.

His princess raises her eyebrows at Vijay almost casually. "Oh?" She says, and Bhairav has known her enough to know much of a mockery that is. Vijay doesn't. "You are experienced with many women, mahoday?"

Vijay shrugs and lowers his head in what seems to be shyness or shame. "I know a few. Your highness, I was wondering where exactly shall we start our tour with?"

"Certainly not the royal wing, mahodaya," she says with an incredulous tone that might seem friendly, when Bhairav knows she is still seething over his audacity to walk into the wing. He makes a mental note to find Katappa and use his help to find who let this man in the royal wing and later relocate that soldier. Preferably to the stables.

Bhairav trails four steps behind them, closer than normal, as his princess leads the man out of the royal wing and makes the first step to the Mahadev temple.

He stays quiet as she speaks of the architecture and the history of the palace, notes the way she runs her fingers in the carvings and knows every anecdote of the palace by heart. Vijay keeps speaking in between her lessons. It is extremely unbecoming and he knows she hates Vijay's behaviour. Bhairav is counting minutes to his Princess' ire increasing.

He isn't disappointed. Mere moments after his princess tells them of a story of a handloom and how the business is now a part of the royal palace, Vijay commits the grave mistake.

"A single saree takes almost six months to be—" his princess is speaking, spouting off facts that she's learnt since she was a child. She sounds professional rather than the animated tone she uses when she's talking to her family or Yamuna or Katappa or Bhairav himself.

Vijay interrupts her. "Is your follower always going to be following us?"

Bhairav can find five things wrong with that singular question and he's a base born soldier. His princess, who excels in etiquette, would find this grievous. She casually looks at Vijay, craning her neck gracefully, hiding her ire that Bhairav can see forming in the tightness of her shoulders.

"Yes, Mahoday. He is my sworn sword. Where I go, he goes." She's making him sound nothing more than a soldier and when she sneaks a glance at him while Vijay shakes his head, Bhairav pouts mockingly at her. It gets her to smile and her shoulders ease down, so he considers it a success.

A momentary success, however.

Vijay turns back to the princess and smiles condescendingly. "Then I must habituate myself with seeing Bhairav, shall I?"

"His name is Bhairavrath." His princess says, her tone chilling. Vijay looks back at Bhairav for a beat before he turns towards the princess, who continues to speak about the handlooms, as if she had not been interrupted at all.

Bhairav applauds her patience.

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Bhairav takes his midday meal with Katappa, who keeps on yapping about the stress he has because of security management on Mahashivratri. Bhairav, who is already eager to get back to his princess, sneaks off a glance at the formal dining area that they can see from the practice yards.

His princess sits stiffly but is flanked by her two brothers. The governor sits across from her, accompanied by her uncle and the Queen Mother takes the seat at the head of the table. Bhairav turns his attention back to Katappa the moment he spies Bahubali beginning to turn his head.

"I don't like the governor's household soldiers either," Katappa complains, sighing heavily,"They seem like the trouble making sort, honestly."

Bhairav remembers another celebration where his princess was attacked. He remembers dark bruises and reactionary tears. "Keep them as far away from the temple as possible." He says sharply.

Katappa nods, understanding him already. The soldier beside him, Bhallaldeva's sworn shield, Veeraraj, raises his eyebrows. "And just what should we tell them for the placement? It's a complete coincidence and not personal resentment?"

"We'll tell them the half truth," Bhairav says, it's obvious and he's irked that neither of those two highly appreciated soldiers know how to lie properly. "These people haven't experienced the Mahashivratri of the capital and don't know how to deal with the mass. It's better their interaction is minimal."

Katappa gives him a look. "Should I be concerned that you're lying so well, Bhairavrath?"

Before Bhairav can say anything, Veeraraj snorts. "He's been serving the princess for years now, Katappa. He ought to have learnt some semblance of diplomacy from her too."

A retort sits hot on his tongue. (Did you learn belittling people from your master, then?) But he keeps it down and closed. "Learning from esteemed people is a privilege." He says, daring the man to say a word about his princess.

Veeraraj takes the hint, as pigheaded as he can be, he knows the reputation Bhairav has cultivated over the years in protecting his Princess, even from words.

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The anger his princess holds calms down over the day.

Vijay doesn't leave her side and that irks Bhairav like a fibre of orange stuck between the gap in his back teeth. He's helpless against the situation but he desperately wishes, for once, that he held more power— if only so he could tear away Vijay from his princess' side and walk beside her.

She speaks confidently as she orders and coordinates with the palace staff. Which flowers to be ordered and their quantity, which temples to decorate and how, which libraries to donate to, which orphanages to develop. She thinks of all that and speaks, head high and shoulders back.

It's evening by the time that the princess walks into the room she uses as her study and sits down, Vijay sits across from her. Bhairav stands behind her, relaxing his stance. His princess begins to find some scrolls but it takes her only three heart beats to freeze and look over at Bhairav in clear confusion.

"Sit down, Bhairav," she says, patting a hand beside her casually, frustration bleeding into her tone as she fights to keep the scrolls on the desk from falling down. Vijay scowls and Bhairav hesitates for a second too long. "Do sit down before I have to use force, Bhairav. And help me arrange these, please."

Bhairav sits down beside her without another word and she starts to organise the rolls into piles. The scrap ones go nearer to Vijay, the completed ones remain in front of her and the incomplete ones land in Bhairav's lap. He knows why they're off the desk, of course. They're various plans of security.

His princess keeps up a steady conversation with Vijay about the West province as she arranges the scrolls, not once speaking about any security details of the Mahashivratri pooja. Vijay is dimwitted enough to seem prideful at the conversation, not knowing that it is a distraction. His princess doesn't need to ask Vijay about the farming state of the West. She already knows. Bhairav himself fetched her the reports only last week.

When Vijay finally leaves the room, dismissed by his princess under the ruse of her needing to find a particular and private tome, her shoulders relax marginally and she leans back on the wall. Bhairav relaxes as well, remaining silent as he sees her ears twitch.

In the years, he's learnt that she has a better sense of hearing than normal people. The sense of smell is not as good, but her hearing is outstanding. He doesn't speak until she looks at him, knowing she's hearing the footsteps of Vijay fade away.

His princess looks at him, suddenly tired, and blinks rapidly before closing her eyes for a long moment. Her lashes touch her skin, and under the setting sun's light that streams through the window, Bhairav can see the wave shaped birthmark on the outer corner of her left eye. She looks like a painting come alive. Bhairav doesn't want to break the silence, lest he disturb her much deserved peace.

"A trying day, is it not?" She finally says, sounding annoyed beyond her years. Bhairav suppresses a smile and nods. She continues,"Well, at least we had some work done. Remind me to talk with Katappa tomorrow, for security, please."

Bhairav notes the thought in the background of his mind and nods. "You have not had the time for your evening fruits, my princess. May I ask for them to be brought here?"

She shakes her head and cracks her knuckles as she sits up, shifting and grabbing something by her foot, on the other end of the table. Bhairav furrows his eyebrows in confusion. It's not like her to be pensive. The day must have really exhausted her.

His princess pulls out an adequately sized wooden box onto her lap and turns towards him. Her eyes sparkle in giddiness as she hands the box to him with the brightest smile he's seen on her face as she wishes,"A very happy birthday to you, Bhairav."

He's shocked. He's never told her or anyone else about his birthday before. He doesn't feel the need to create a fuss over it. "My princess—I— I cannot—"

He fumbles as he tries to speak but she raises her eyebrows in question, that includes a mild threat, and he shuts up. His eyes dart downward out of habit and he again sees the intricately carved wooden box, one that has his name carved in it.

"One should not deny gifts, my dear friend." She says, a tender smile on her face.

(It shocks him to this day, whenever she refers to him as her friend. She's the goddamn princess. And he's just— He's just Bhairav. He's a soldier. He's so far below her station, it's almost funny to call them friends.

A corner of his mind that he always tries to keep silent piques up that he accepted Katappa's offer to apprentice under him so he could be raised in status, even as a soldier. So he could be worthy of her easy friendship.)

The box in his hands is heavy and she gestures impatiently with her eyes for him to open it. He knows he can't deny her anything. With a defeated smile on his face, he opens the box.

Nestled between some jasmine flowers is a tunic of his. It had been lost ages ago, when he had pulled it off in the armoury after a new soldier had swiped his sword particularly harshly and tore the tunic at the shoulder and grazed Bhairav's shoulder enough to draw blood as well. He doesn't have a scar, it wasn't deep enough for one, but he remembers that particular soldier being assigned to someone else from the very next day.

This tunic, beige with rust orange stains at the hem, had been one he wore way too much. One of his most comfortable ones. Finding it again brings a grin to his face.

"Thank you so much for finding this, my princess," he says, grazing his fingers over the neckline. It's then that he notices his name embroidered to the nape of the tunic. He thumbs the red thread almost reverently.

He doesn't know why it affects him so, the simple act of an embroidered name. Perhaps it is because he feels as if none of his belongings are his truly. Perhaps it is because there is nothing truly in his name. But his name in red makes his heart grow twice.

He looks up gratefully at his princess again, only to see her smilingly indulgently. "Oh, you silly man," she chuckles and shakes her head,"Look what's underneath that."

He carefully brings the tunic out of the box and lays it on his unoccupied thigh, careful not to crease it. It looks cleaner than it has ever in Bhairav's possession. He notices the space where it had ripped is as good as new. She fixed it.

(Just like she keeps fixing him.)

Under the bed of Jasmine flowers, shimmers something distinctly blue. He looks at her hesitantly before scooping out the flowers and laying them on the lid of the box.

His breath catches.

It's another tunic. A distinct shade of blue that looks like a sky painted of sapphires. The neckline is softly embroidered with orange and golden thread, looking like vines of a buried treasure curling in the sea of blue. His name is again embroidered at the nape.

Reverently, he brushes his thumb over the material and it instantly feels cool and soft— water made into fabric. It's— Its muslin. It's not even silk. Muslin.

She got him a Muslin tunic.

He looks up at her, startled at so much wealth being spent on him. She smiles and for a moment, it's nervous. "Well," she says,"I know your favourite colour is blue and I intend to never wear a saree gifted by any of my presumptuous suitors. And, forgive me if the missing of your other tunic caused you any grief." Her smile turns shy and she winces slightly,"I had to get your measurements."

She made it.

A gasp buries itself in Bhairav's throat and lungs and he loses all the self control he's been so proud of. He's astonished at her generosity and kindness. The time it must have taken her to sew a whole new tunic would be momental. And Bhairav is always with her in the day, so she must have done this at night. Lost precious sleep and time over making him a birthday gift.

Him, of all people.

His breath hitches and the realisation seems to run into his blood. She cares. And oh, how beautifully. She cares.

Someone cares that he's alive and he's lived one more year.

Mouth open in shock, he stares at the tunic in his hand for five heart beats more. (He can't be too sure of the time, though. His heart is beating too fast.) He looks up, gulps down the shock and awe and lowers his gaze again. "Th—" he notices how hoarse his voice sounds and clears his throat. "Thank you so much, my princess. You did not have to do so much. I'm a servant, I don't—I am not worth the effort."

"Not unworthy. Not to me. You are worth every effort, Bhairav."

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Worked on this for like two weeks aur abhi abhi almost heart attack aa Gaya Because Tumblr showed my drafts empty 💀💀💀💀 tagging: @alhad-maharani @vijayasena @nerdreader @serenaaaas-world @voidsteffy @allizzprobablynotwell

#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #bahubali #baahubali #bhaisahab dar gayi thi main ki ye Tumblr ne delete tlh nhi kar diya #so before Tumblr becomes a bit #everyone say happy birthday to our resident guard dog

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