#baahubali the conclusion | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nidhi-writes · 4 months ago

Text

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

_______________________________________

taglist: @mahi-wayy @ahamasmiyodhah @whippersnappersbookworm @harinishivaa @willkatfanfromasia @thirst4light @hollogramhallucination @celestesinsight @curiousgalacticsoul @themorguepoet @tranquilsightseer @mayakimayahai @gloriouspurpose01 @jkdaddy01 @whyishekinda @salaarfanindia @aprofoundrickmaniac @toomanyfanficsbruh

#bhallaldevaxreader #bhalladeva x fem!oc #bhallaladeva #bhallaladeva x oc #baahubali #baahubali the conclusion #baahubali fanfic #rana daggubati #desi aesthetic #desi tumblr #desiblr #smut #fanfic #south indian fanfic #indian fanfic

45 notes · View notes

nidhi-writes · 7 days ago

Text

CHAPTER - VI | HIS NIYATI

MASTERLIST

one | two | three | four | five | six

"What the hell were you thinking, Bhalla?" Bijjaladeva's voice thundered through the room; his frustration was evident. His expression was confused and rage, as though he no longer recognized the son standing before him. Perhaps he didn't—not after what had spoken.

Why? The answer was simple: me.

I stood silently, my eyes shifting between father and son, but my mind was elsewhere. It spun back to yesterday's events, back to when Bhalla's lips had been on mine, claiming them with an intensity that left me breathless. His touch had been firm yet soft, his arms exploring every curve as if he had memorized the map of my body in a way that defied reason.

I had tried to keep my wits about me, tried to suppress the shivers of pleasure that coursed through me as his lips found the sensitive dip of my neck. When his teeth grazed the skin there, a gasp escaped me, followed by a moan I barely managed to stifle. My body betrayed me, responding to him even as my mind screamed for me to pull away.

I couldn't let this go on as I whispered, "Can I ask you something?" though the words sounded hollow against the storm of sensations he was making me feel.

He paused, his thumb gently brushing against my swollen lips, his gaze heavy with desire as it locked onto mine. "Anything," he murmured, his voice a husky promise as he leaned in to press another kiss to my neck, trailing heat down to my chest.

"It's about the wedding," I managed to say, though my words came out breathless as his hands slid around my waist. He pulled me closer, and before I knew it, I was straddling him, his firm grip holding me steady.

How did I end up like this?

Oh, I knew. The kiss I had foolishly allowed had quickly spiralled into this—a fevered entanglement that seemed intent on searing itself into my memory. His hands, his lips, every touch felt like a brand, leaving traces I wasn't sure I could erase. My heart and body were traitors, swooning under his attention, even as my mind begged me to resist.

"Anything you ask is an order", he echoed, his voice tinged with urgency. His lips found mine again, capturing them in a kiss so consuming that I felt myself unravel.

I had to push through and stop this before I lost myself completely. I pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss despite his protests.

"You're killing me," he whispered, his breath ragged as his forehead rested against mine. His fingers traced my jaw with tenderness, cupping it like I might disappear.

I almost forgot what I was about to say for a moment. Almost.

"It's just... I want the people from Kuntala to attend the wedding," I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. His intense gaze never lowered, sending shivers down my spine as I continued, "And I want Baahu and Deva to be back for the wedding." There. I said it.

The moment the words left my lips, regret washed over me—not entirely, but enough to make me second-guess my timing. Perhaps I should have waited, had more control over the situation, or, honestly, over myself. But it was too late now.

Bhalla froze, his expression unreadable, before something dark and fiery flickered in his eyes. Was it anger? Desire? Or both? It was hard to tell, especially when we were still so intimately entwined, his touch lingering on my skin, the scent of our heated exchange still thick in the air.

I couldn't help but wonder: Was the fire in his eyes born from the intimacy we'd just shared, or had my lips uttering Baahubali's name in this vulnerable moment ignited something else entirely? A dangerous line had been crossed, and I wasn't sure which side I was standing on—or if I was even safe anymore.

"Baahu and Deva?" he finally said, his voice low and deceptively calm, though there was an unmistakable edge. His thumb brushed against my lips again, his touch lingering as if testing me, waiting for me to respond.

I nodded, my throat dry. "Yes. For the wedding."

His lips curled into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You make bold requests, little flower," he said, his voice whispered yet carrying something dangerous. His hands tightened slightly on my waist, pulling me closer. "Do you think I'll give you everything you ask for so easily?"

I swallowed hard, but I refused to back down. "It's important to me," I whispered, though my voice shivered. "Please."

His expression shifted—just for a moment—as if he were weighing my words, my resolve against whatever storm was brewing in his mind. Then, leaning in, his lips grazed the shell of my ear, and his voice dropped to a chilling whisper.

"Careful, my good girl. You're playing with fire."

A shiver ran down my spine as I felt his words' promise and warning. And yet, even as fear flickered in the back of my mind, I couldn't bring myself to look away from him.

He was sorely mistaken if he thought I would back down so easily. Yes, Bhalla was scorching hot, his whispers igniting sensations I couldn't ignore, but my mind remained stronger. I needed Baahu and Deva back—no matter what it took.

I pulled away from him, slipping off his lap as he tried to capture my lips again. Not this time. If he was the fire, then I was the oil, and I knew just how much to add to make it blaze or extinguish it completely.

"Hmm, is that your final decision?" I asked, meeting his smouldering gaze head-on. His smirk widened, lazy and confident, as he leaned back against the headboard, folding his arms behind his head. The movement accentuated his triceps and abs, blatantly displaying his physical power. I quickly averted my eyes, refusing to let him distract me.

Standing tall, I tilted my chin up. "Then I think you're not very serious about this marriage," I said, calm but deliberate. I watched his expression shift; his smirk vanished just slightly as my words hit their mark.

Before he could respond, I pressed on, my tone sharper. "You call me your queen, but what's the point if I can't even have a say in something that matters to me? If my words mean nothing to you, then maybe this..." I gestured vaguely between us, "...has no meaning either."

He shot up from the bed so quickly that it startled me. His presence towered as he closed the distance between us. Firm yet surprisingly gentle, his hands cupped my face, forcing me to meet his fiery gaze. His lips curved into a dangerous smirk that sent me shivers of fear and something darker through me.

"My love," he whispered, his voice low and intoxicating, "you are my queen. But don't forget—I am the King." His thumb brushed against my cheek, his grip tightening slightly as his tone hardened. "And we cannot overturn the decisions of the throne so easily. Baahubali left by the orders of the Queen Mother—my mother. Do you think even I can defy her wishes without consequence?"

His words sent a chill down my spine, but I refused to waver. "If you are truly the King," I said softly but firmly, "then act like one."

***

They say even the strongest men fall prey to the love they feel, and in Bhalla's case, that couldn't have been truer. Hours of my relentless stubbornness finally wore him down, but not without a condition—Baahu and Deva could attend the wedding but would have to leave immediately after.

It wasn't ideal, but I took it. After all, it was a start where I had managed to bring Bhalla, the great villain, to his knees. To see him trying to bribe me with gifts and lavish jewellery in exchange for dropping my demand was a sight I'd never forget.

But victory came when he finally gave in and promised to speak to the Queen Mother and his father. My heart fluttered with victory, and I decided to reward him. Leaning forward, I kissed his lips—not full-on, but enough to make sure my lips lingered, caressing his, teasing him just enough to set the fire ablaze.

When I felt him trying to deepen the kiss, his hands reaching to pull me closer, I pulled back, smirking. This time, I was playing the cards.

"Should leave something for after the wedding," I whispered, my voice low and coy, before stepping away. His expression was priceless—dumbstruck, frustrated, and burning with a need I wasn't ready to quench yet.

I didn't look back as I vanished into the gardens, but I let out a shaky breath when I was out of sight. My legs gave way, and I sank onto a nearby bench, my cheeks flaming.

Oh, my gods. I did it. I did it.

The memory of his stunned face brought a small, victorious smile to my lips, though my heart still raced in disbelief. Somehow, I had managed to outwit Bhalla—and I was beginning to realize how dangerous this game of hearts could become.

And that's how Bhalla ended up being grilled by his father, Bijjaladeva, while Sivagami loomed nearby, her gaze sharp and unyielding like a hawk. The tension in the room was palpable as I stood quietly to the side, my expression crafted into perfect innocence—like the good girl Bhalla so often called me. Good girls, though, know how to play bad when it counts.

"Stop!" Sivagami's commanding voice echoed through the chamber, instantly silencing the argument. She stepped closer to Bhalla, her sharp eyes analyzing him before flicking toward me, burning with intensity. "I am not sure how you made this decision," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "but I hope you've thought it through. After all, it's my future daughter-in-law's wish, and I want it to come true."

Her words left me stunned. Did I earn Sivagami's approval—or was this some calculated move of hers? She turned and walked away, leaving behind a fuming Bijjaladeva. His glare felt like a dagger aimed straight at me, anger and disdain practically radiating from him. If looks could kill, I'd already be six feet under.

But I held firm. Rolling my eyes inwardly, I kept the same broad, innocent puppy-dog eyes fixed in place while sensing Bhalla's gaze softening as it settled on me. His expression shifted, melting from irritation to adoration. My heart strengthened—this man was wrapped around my finger, and I intended to use it to my full advantage.

Without a word, Bhalla took my hand and led me away from the cold atmosphere of the council chamber to my room's privacy. There, he gently laid me down on the bed, his eyes warm and protective as he brushed strands of hair from my face.

"You're my queen," he murmured, his hand caressing my hair. Leaning down, he pressed a tender kiss to my forehead. His touch was gentle, his devotion clear.

As he stayed with me until I drifted into sleep, I couldn't help but smirk inwardly. It's a good thing Bhalla either loves me—or is utterly obsessed with me. Because I'll need every ounce of that obsession to ensure my plans become reality.

TO BE CONTINUED...

taglist: @mahi-wayy @ahamasmiyodhah

@whippersnappersbookworm @vishnavishivaa @mayakimayahai

@jkdaddy01 @gloriouspurpose01 @whyishekinda @salaarfanindia

@aprofoundrickmaniac @toomanyfanficsbruh @willkatfanfromasia

@luvsxroses @dutifullyironblaze @tulipmagnoliaisme @badhra @sytarg @shev3nom

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or to get removed.

#bhallaldevaxreader #bhalladeva x fem!oc #bhallaladeva x oc #bhallaladeva #baahubali fanfic #baahubali the conclusion #baahubali #time travel #indian fanfic #south indian fanfic #his niyati #desi posts #desi tumblr #desi love

20 notes · View notes