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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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nidhi-writes · 20 days ago

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CHAPTER - III | HIS NIYATI

MASTERLIST

one | two | three | four

The morning sun cast a golden glow over Mahishmati, and as I stepped onto the balcony, I couldn't help but marvel at the day's warmth. Devasena and Baahubali had left early with Kattappa to visit the temple, leaving a note explaining they hadn't wanted to wake me. Smiling at Devasena's thoughtfulness, I gazed at the sunlit kingdom stretched before me, the grandeur and beauty somehow more vivid than even the films I'd watched back in my world. How could this be fictional when I was living it?

Also, my heart string tugged at the images of the last few days; Bhallaldeva has been crowned as a King, and to witness such a grand scene in front of me made me feel out of the world; this time, I am not viewing it outside of the screen, but I sat next to Devasena and watched the whole ordeal, the way people wanted Baahibali but yet the Crown passed to Bhalla who has his arrogant smirk on his face all the way the end but yet whenever his eyes met mine it held something else which I am not able to put the finger on.

I shook my head, returned to the present, and gathered myself to meet them at the temple or perhaps ready myself for their return; something caught my eye—a pond just across the grounds. It sparkled invitingly, and before I knew it, Quickly, I slipped into a simple white cloth that hugged my form modestly, and without hesitation, I slipped into the cool water. The feeling was pure bliss. The water enveloped me, washing away any lingering doubts and fears, leaving me refreshed and weightless. My mind felt as clear as the sky above, my worries sinking below the surface. Here, in this hidden pond, life didn't feel complicated. Just simple, beautiful, and strangely... peaceful.

But reality has its way of reminding us of its presence.

As I began to leave the pond, I stepped onto a mossy stone and felt my foot slip. My arms flailed, bracing for the cold plunge back into the water when a hand grabbed me firmly. I collided with a broad chest, the strength of the arms holding me steady, their warmth sinking into me even as my heart raced. I gasped, regaining my balance, and looked up to thank my saviour.

"Thank you—"

My words trailed off as my gaze met the steely eyes of Bhallaladeva himself, his face barely an inch from mine. The notorious Bhalla, the very man whose gaze alone could command armies, now held me close, his eyes locked onto mine with a piercing intensity that froze me.

It was more than I had expected, more intense than anything I'd prepared for, standing here in the embrace of Mahishmati's most dangerous man. And yet, as Bhallaladeva looked down at me, his gaze softened. I'd only seen his eyes filled with something harsh and calculating, like a storm brewing beneath the surface. But now, in the quiet of this early morning, his expression held a warmth, a flicker of something... else. It was enough to make my heart quicken, even as I tried to keep my composure.

I could feel the cool morning air pricking at my damp skin, sending a shiver down my spine. My soaked form clung to me, and droplets fell from my hair like small streams trailing along my cheeks. I swallowed, trying to steady myself as his eyes trailed over my face, lingering, almost as if he were memorising each detail.

Without a word, his hand moved to tuck a few stray strands behind my ear, his fingers grazing my skin with the lightest touch. I knew I should step back and pull away before anyone caught us, but I felt rooted in place, almost as if his presence had drawn me in like a magnet. Every time I considered retreating, his hand anchored me, his steady gaze holding me captive.

With a surge of unfamiliar anticipation, I realised I didn't want to leave.

As his fingers moved, his thumb traced a delicate path along my jawline, lingering there as his hand settled firmly on my waist. I was acutely aware of how close we were, how his chest was pressed against mine, firm. I could even feel his abs through the thin material, a steady reminder of the power he carried. My heart raced in a way I couldn't control.

"K-King Bhallaladeva..." I managed, though my voice barely sounded like my own.

He only chuckled softly, sounding equal parts amusement and something deeper. His lips turned into a slow, almost indulgent smile as his eyes settled on me again. "You don't need to address me so formally," he murmured, his voice like a warm breeze, his gaze not breaking away.

I felt a strange thrill race through me, my heart hammering as his thumb brushed my skin again as if lingering to prolong the moment. And for now, I couldn't look away.

Unable to say another word, I watched as he finally stepped back, a strange expression in his eyes. But before leaving, he gave me a look that lingered longer than I expected, a look that left a warmth in my chest and a tangle of emotions I wasn't ready to name.

After that unexpected morning encounter with the King, I managed to keep my distance, though some seemed to ache for his warmth. I kept reminding myself that this infatuation had no future. Maybe it was just because Bhallaladeva, or rather Rana, the actor who portrayed him, was undeniably handsome. But then, if it were just about looks, shouldn't I have felt the same around Baahubali? Yet, it was different with him—Baahubali felt like a brother, a friend, someone I could admire but not romantically.

The day passed, and Devasena returned from the temple, glowing with a joy I hadn't seen in her before. It was odd to see her so giggly and blushing—she, who was usually so composed and strong, now seemed wrapped up in the happiness Baahubali brought to her. I suppose that's the power of a man who truly knows his strength. The wedding was set to occur the day after tomorrow, and Devasena wanted me close by her side through it all. I felt honoured and threw myself into making sure every detail was perfect for what felt like a real-life fairytale wedding.

I also made sure to avoid any further encounters with the King. For my peace of mind, I couldn't afford to feel that inexplicable draw to him again. With each passing hour, I busied myself with wedding preparations, arranging flowers, planning decorations, and helping Devasena choose her jewels—anything to keep my mind from wandering back to Bhalla.

Then, the wedding morning arrived. The air was alive with blissful energy, the entire kingdom adorned in celebratory colours, flowers, and lights that cast a warm glow over Mahishmati. I felt surprisingly emotional as I watched Devasena, radiant and fierce, join Baahubali at the altar. When they tied the knot, I saw a love so deep and natural between them that it made me believe in destiny, even for a moment.

For Devasena and Baahubali, this day marked the start of a powerful bond, a partnership as fierce and loyal as they both were. And even as I celebrated with them, my heart tucked away its quiet fluttering, locking away the memory of a morning gaze that I was determined not to revisit.

***

It had been a few days since I'd last managed to escape from Bhallaladeva's presence successfully. All the men, including Baahubali and the King, attended an important council meeting. I decided it was an excellent time to explore the palace grounds while avoiding any run-ins with Mahishmati's so-called "noblemen." Baahubali aside, I wasn't exactly thrilled by the company of most of them. These powerful men carried their authority as an excuse to intimidate and dominate. Sethupathi, Bhallaladeva's obnoxious friend, was the worst of them, with a gaze that made my skin crawl.

Caught up in my thoughts, I stared out over Mahishmati's breathtaking view when a prickling sense of dread crept up my spine. I turned slowly, only to see Sethupathi standing there, smirking, his eyes lingering where they shouldn't.

"What's a flower of Kuntala doing here all alone?" he said, stepping closer. I forced a smile that probably looked as thin as paper. The last thing I wanted was to encourage him, but it was better than showing my genuine disgust.

"Oh, I was just admiring the view. Devasena asked me to meet her, so I should be on my way," I said, attempting to slip past him.

But he sidestepped, blocking my path. "What's the rush? Doesn't the princess's friend know how to be polite?" He grinned with a leering look that made my stomach turn. If not for Baahubali and Devasena, I'd have scratched that smirk off his face by now.

I managed a tight smile. "Oh, I know how to be polite, but I choose not to waste it where it isn't deserved. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Ignoring my hint, he edged even closer. "Why hurry away? We could spend a little time together." The suggestion sent a wave of nausea over me.

"I can't," I replied quickly, stepping back again. But he stayed in my way, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

"Could you move out of my way?" I asked, keeping my voice steady, though I could feel the irritation in my bones. Perhaps I should've been more assertive, but Sethupathi wasn't the type to take 'no' for an answer.

He leaned in, closer than I could bear. "And what if I don't want to?"

Just then, a voice broke through, booming and unmistakable. "Maybe you should leave the lady alone, Sethupathi."

I saw Bhallaladeva standing at a distance, his eyes blazing red like rubies.

Just like that, the repulsive Sethupathi transformed into a model of politeness under Bhallaladeva's sharp gaze. "We were just having a conversation, my King," he stammered, his meek tone making me want to roll my eyes. Baahubali would take care of him in the future anyway, so I let it go.

"Really?" Bhallaladeva's voice was laced with barely concealed menace. "Well, I'd rather you start on the task I assigned you." Sethupathi's face drained of colour as he nodded and scurried off, leaving me with a wave of relief and a small smile of triumph. But just as quickly, I remembered my predicament—alone now with the intense gaze of Mahishmati's powerful, enigmatic King.

His eyes seemed to pierce into my soul, carrying a depth I hadn't anticipated, something more than just authority. I tried to meet his gaze, but a warmth that was comforting and unsettling crept over me. His footsteps drew closer, and I focused intently on the ground, swallowing as my pulse quickened. If I dared to look up, I would be face-to-face with him, close enough to feel his breath. Unlike Sethupathi's repulsive proximity, being near Bhallaladeva stirred something different, a longing I didn't want to admit. My mind flashed to our brief but unforgettable encounter at the pond just days before.

"Won't you look at me?" His low voice sent a tremor through me, and I gasped softly, lips parting as I finally lifted my gaze. His dark brown eyes held mine, softer and more vulnerable than I'd ever seen, spilling over with an inexplicable warmth.

"Th-thank you, King," I whispered, struggling to keep my composure as his eyes drank me in, unwavering.

"It's my pleasure, Nandhini," he replied, my name slipping from his lips like a caress. Heat flooded my cheeks, and his gaze sparkled, noticing the flush on my face. As I stepped back, I felt the wall against my back, effectively trapping me. His hand reached up, fingertips tracing my cheek, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was soft, almost reverent, leaving me breathless.

"My King..." I tried to speak, but my voice was barely audible.

"Look at me." This time, his tone held undeniable authority. "Call me Bhalla. Please."

A small smile tugged at my lips. This softer side of him was unlike anything I had expected, making me see him in an entirely different light. "But you're a king..." I stammered, trying to reason.

He shook his head gently, his thumb grazing my cheekbone, and my stomach twisted at his touch. I was overwhelmed by an inexplicable desire to feel his hands over every inch of me. What was happening to me?

"Okay... if that's what you wish, I'll call you Bhalla." His smile grew, but his gaze held a depth, a longing I couldn't quite place. Something was hidden in his expression, just out of my reach.

"Do you... remember me?" he asked, his voice dropping to an almost pleading tone.

I frowned slightly, trying to understand. "Remember you? What do you mean?"

But before he could answer, a voice echoed down the hallway. Devasena's voice broke the moment, shattering the intimacy that had enveloped us. Panicking, I gently pushed away from Bhalla, stepping aside quickly as I composed myself, not wanting to be seen alone with him.

Still, even as I hurried to meet Devasena, I could feel his gaze on me, lingering, intense, and filled with something I still couldn't name.

***

It had been almost eight months since I'd left Mahishmati and returned to Kuntala. Staying in one place too long felt stifling, especially when a certain someone was there, stirring up emotions I wasn't ready to face. Distance seemed like the best cure—one that would erase any fluttering feelings that had started to surface. Now, though, I was headed back for Devasena's baby shower, travelling with her brother and sister-in-law, trying to convince myself that both Bhalla and I would have forgotten each other by now.

As we arrived, Devasena practically jumped from her seat, a wide grin lighting up her face as she rushed over to embrace me. Over these months, we had exchanged countless letters, staying close despite the distance. Baahubali stood nearby, his warm smile a welcome sight, while Devasena pulled her family members into joyful hugs.

The following day, the palace buzzed with life as everyone gathered to bless the soon-to-be parents, Devasena and Baahubali. Just as the ceremony began, an announcement echoed through the hall, signalling the entrance of Queen Mother Sivagami, King Bhallaladeva, and his father. I had never grown used to the sight of Sivagami Devi, once known to adore Baahubali beyond reason, now carrying herself like a distant stranger. She blessed Devasena but looked at her with barely any warmth, saying, "Be careful, Devasena. You are carrying the kingdom's heir."

I felt a surge of indignation, my stomach twisting at her words. Not Devasena, just the heir. She didn't care about Devasena's well-being; she only cared about the child. I shook off my frustration, not wanting to cause a scene, but the anger only grew as I caught sight of Bhalla, his eyes already fixed on me with a mischievous gleam. His lips curled into a smirk as he took in my form, and I quickly averted my gaze, trying to refocus.

After the blessing, Bhallaladeva congratulated Baahubali with a generous smile. "Brother, take some time to rest. Stay with Devasena until the baby is born. After all, the court can manage without you for a while. I'll make sure everything is taken care of," he said, voice silky, though I could sense the layers of implication beneath his offer.

Baahubali gave a slight nod, and just then, Sethupathi spoke up from his place beside Bhalla. "I'd be honoured to support you in your absence, Baahubali. I know Mahishmati needs its best hands."

My fists clenched, but I kept quiet. My hand rested on Devasena's shoulder as I felt her body tense beside me. Her jaw was set, and her eyes glared daggers at Bhallaladeva and Sethupathi.

"How dare he?" Devasena muttered under her breath as they exited the room. She turned to Baahubali, her voice shaking with anger. "You promised me, Baahu. You promised you'd do anything I asked. Well, now I'm asking you to stand up for yourself, for us. I want you to be King, Baahu!"

Baahubali looked torn, glancing between his wife and brother's retreating figure as if the world's weight rested on his shoulders. "Deva..." he began, his tone gentle, but the words failed him.

"Baahubali," she said firmly, hurt flashing across her face, "I need you to stop bending to others' will. Don't you see what Bhallaladeva is doing? He wants you out of the way so he can take your place!"

Baahubali's head dropped slightly, his silence only making her more agitated. Finally, I placed a hand on her arm, gently squeezing her.

"Come on, Deva," I whispered. "Let's go back to your room for now."

As I led her out, she looked back at Baahubali, disappointment evident in her gaze.

The urge to step in and change everything weighed heavily on me. I knew what would happen next, but I also knew how deeply Baahubali trusted his brother and loved his mother and kingdom. Even if I tried to warn him, would he believe me? His loyalty to his family would blind him to others' true nature.

The next day, Devasena asked me to accompany her to the temple. Memories of this day rushed back—this was the day Sethupathi would overstep his bounds and face Devasena's wrath. Determined to prevent the fallout that would lead to her and Baahubali being cast out, I quickly positioned myself to Devasena's right, leaving her on the left side, away from Sethupathi. If I could keep Sethupathi from trying anything inappropriate, maybe the future could still be salvaged.

As we approached the temple, Sethupathi gestured us out of the unique entrance reserved exclusively for the King. Devasena's eyes narrowed, sensing my frustration, and she nodded, choosing the entrance meant for commoners instead. I walked alongside her, keeping a close eye on Sethupathi. His gaze wandered over other women, and I noticed the casual way he brushed his hand across one woman's back, making my stomach churn with disgust. My lips tightened, but I kept silent, hoping that enduring this would protect Devasena and Baahubali.

I was so focused on controlling my reaction that I didn't notice Devasena's eyes growing dark with anger. She had been watching the entire scene unfold—seeing me tense up and noticing Sethupathi's leering actions toward the women before us. Just as he reached a handout dangerously close to me, Devasena's patience snapped.

In one swift motion, she pushed me behind her, yanking a knife from Sethupathi's belt before I could even react. In a fluid motion, she slashed downward, cutting his fingers clean off. Blood splattered onto the temple steps, and Sethupathi's scream filled the air.

"Deva, stop!" I shouted, but my voice was swallowed by the shock that rippled through the gathering crowd.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her," Devasena spat, her voice ice-cold, fury blazing in her eyes as she stood protectively before me.

Sethupathi clutched his bleeding hand, stumbling back in shock and pain. "You—how dare you! I am the King's trusted general!" he shouted, but his voice wavered with fear.

Devasena's voice cut through his protests like a blade. "Trust does not give you the right to disrespect any woman," she retorted. "Especially not under the guise of loyalty. Touch her again, and you'll lose more than a few fingers."

A part of me wanted to scream at her for her impulsiveness, but I also felt an overwhelming sense of pride and gratitude. She had risked everything to protect me without hesitation.

The court was tense, with Devasena shackled and surrounded by judgmental gazes. I stood nearby, fighting back tears as I watched her be treated like a criminal. Every whisper and every dismissive glance made me feel more helpless. My frustration boiled over as I shouted, "Is this how you treat your kingdom's daughter-in-law and the one carrying its heir?"

A hush fell over the court, and all eyes shifted to me. Queen Mother Sivagami's glare burned into me while King Bhallaldeva smirked from his throne, his gaze laced with something unnerving yet familiar. Just then, Sethupathi, still nursing his injured hand, sneered through gritted teeth, "Watch your tongue! You are speaking to the Queen Mother!"

Ignoring the tightening knot in my stomach, I met his gaze and let a faint smile play on my lips. "Maybe you should watch where you're inserting yourself, Sethupathi. Who knows, it might be more than just your finger that gets cut next time."

Sivagami's voice thundered through the hall, silencing every murmur. "Who gave you the right to speak in our court? A girl with no position should know her limits!"

Her scorn caused Devasena, silent until now, to spring to my defence. "Is this how you treat your people?" she demanded, her voice unyielding. "You arrested me without a fair trial, and now you're treating the girl who is like my sister with such disdain. Don't people in Mahishmati know how to show respect?"

Gasps echoed around us. Just then, Baahubali strode in, his presence commanding silence. His gaze darkened as he took in Devasena's shackled form, his fists clenching at her mistreatment.

"What happened, Devasena?" he asked, his voice deadly calm though his eyes were already burning with fury.

Devasena didn't hesitate, recounting Sethupathi's attempts to touch me inappropriately and the way he mistreated other women as well. I could feel the moment's weight, and as I glanced at Bhalla, his reaction caught me by surprise. His jaw was tight, his eyes locked on me with a mixture of rage and something else—a silent question, a need to know if this was true. Despite the situation, I found myself nodding, a tear escaping down my cheek. His subtle, acknowledging nod shook me, and I quickly refocused on the scene unfolding.

Sethupathi began stammering out a denial, but before he could finish, Baahubali advanced toward him in a swift, lethal motion. "In Mahishmati," he announced coldly, "a man who dares to dishonour women deserves no less than death." In one stroke, he drew his sword and, without hesitation, severed Sethupathi's head, the declaration echoing in the court.

Gasps filled the hall as Sethupathi's lifeless body collapsed to the floor.

***

As Baahubali and Devasena left the palace grounds, stripped of their titles and finery, I could only watch, my heart heavy. I had tried to follow their example, removing my jewellery in solidarity, but Devasena stopped me with a gentle, insistent look. "These jewels are from Kuntala," she said softly. "You don't need to part with them."

I pouted, wanting to share their fate, but she touched my shoulder. "When we leave, I want you to return to Kuntala. Be there, wait for us," she whispered firmly. I opened my mouth to protest, but her determined gaze silenced me. She wrapped me in a warm hug, kissed my cheek, and left, her figure retreating alongside Baahubali into the welcoming crowd. I watched them go, their people surrounding them with open arms, Kattappa by my side, his eyes brimming with tears as he bade them farewell. He gently patted my head, his comforting touch a silent reassurance.

As he led me back to my chamber to pack, a sense of anxiety gnawed at me. The palace that had once felt secure now seemed foreign, its stone walls cold and unwelcoming. I quickly gathered my things, eager to leave. As I was about to slip into the quiet night, footsteps echoed through the halls. Startled, I darted behind a pillar, my heart pounding as I held my breath.

The footsteps grew closer, steady and unhurried, and my pulse quickened. I dared a glance from behind the stone, and there he stood—Bhalla. His eyes locked on the pillar where I was hiding, and an unsettling smile curved his lips. "Well, well," he drawled, his voice like ice laced with fire. "The flower of Kuntala is shy now?"

I inched along the other side of the pillar, praying he would leave. But as I attempted to move toward the garden doors, a pair of strong arms looped around my waist, trapping me. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear, and whispered in a chilling tone, "Gotcha."

A shiver ran through me as a single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. Helplessly, I wondered what lay ahead—what plans he had for me now and whether I'd ever see the ones I cared about again.

TO BE CONTINUED...

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