#bahubali x oc

[allari-ammayi]

Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

#1

The Interesting Perspective

Synopsis: In the heart of Hyderabad, Y/n tends to her grandmother's antique store, a time capsule hiding stories of the past. Her routine is disrupted when she joins friends to watch the movie "Baahubali," a decision that is set to have an unremovable stain on her life.

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In the vibrant and bustling streets of Hyderabad, India, nestled amidst the chaos of modernity, there existed a quaint and almost forgotten treasure trove of history. It was a little antique store with an intriguing story of its own, now entrusted to the care of a young woman named Y/n. 

Each morning, the sun cast its gentle rays upon the old wooden door of the shop, signalling the beginning of another day. 

Y/n, with an air of quiet determination, unlocked the weathered door and stepped into a world frozen in time. The antique store, a relic itself, carried the weight of decades, its wooden beams groaning softly with age.

As the door swung open, a cloud of dust danced through the air, catching the soft glow of the morning light. Y/n took a moment to inhale the musty scent of history and nostalgia before she proceeded with her daily ritual.

Y/n's routine was as predictable as the sunrise. She gingerly dusted off the display cabinets, each one containing a piece of history that had been carefully preserved for generations.

Once the store was tidied up, Y/n took her place at the ornate wooden register. It was a perch from which she watched the world go by, albeit one that rarely saw any visitors. 

The store, hidden away in plain sight amidst the chaotic streets of Hyderabad, seemed to exist in its own tranquil bubble. Despite the city's ceaseless movement and vibrant energy, it was as if the shop was invisible to the outside world.

With the day's quietude embracing her, Y/n reached for a vintage novel, a companion she had grown fond of. The pages rustled softly as she lost herself in tales of bygone eras, immersing herself in the words on the pages. 

The store was once her grandmother's, and before that, her great-grandmother's, and before that her great-geart-grandmother's. No-one knew exactly how old it was, but it was a family relic that was passed down to Y/n.

Y/n had always been more inclined toward the pages of modern literature than the silver screen. In a world captivated by the magic of movies, she found her sanctuary in the written word. 

But as fate would have it, a new cinematic sensation swept across India, leaving a trail of fervour in its wake, bearing the name 'Bahubali.' 

It was as if a fever had taken hold of the nation, and fans had gone berserk over this cinematic marvel. People had lost their minds, raving about the epic storytelling and jaw-dropping visuals that this movie promised.

Y/n, ever the outlier in her circle, hadn't quite fathomed the craze.

Her friends, captivated by the Baahubali frenzy, hadn't understood how she remained immune to its charm.

They had pestered her relentlessly, urging her to give it a chance. Perhaps, they had thought, Y/n might just find a new love in the world of cinema.

“Come on, Y/n!!” 

“It’s really good!! We’ve already been to the movies three times this month purely because it was so good!”

“And we’ve had two movie nights where we watched the first and second movies together!”

Y/n grimaced, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t know, guys…”

“Ohh, please, Y/n!” They continued to persist, wearing down the girl.

“If it’s not as good as we promise, I swear on my life I’ll start reading that one book you told me to!” Y/n’s ears perked up at this comment as the others quickly joined in.

“In fact -  we all will!” The three girls looked at each other and began nodding in unison and urging Y/n. 

“Mmm…” Y/n’s face remained in deep thought.

“Y/n, if you come to watch the two movies with us, we all promise to immediately start reading the books.” One of the girls spoke up, finally, desperate to get her friend in front of the silver screen. Y/n craned her head to look past her friends at the deserted and empty shop. 

Y/n’s features softened and she looked at their eager faces. She let out a low sigh and looked at her friends, a smile starting to form on her lips.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to leave the store unattended for one night,”

Finally, Y/n had relented, agreeing to accompany her friends to the movie theatre. She had been willing to set aside her literary pursuits for an evening if only to unravel the mystery of what had driven the entire nation into a state of euphoria.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As the lights had dimmed and the colossal screen had flickered to life, Y/n's curiosity had mingled with a hint of scepticism. The opening scene had unfolded, and the grandeur of Bahubali had begun to unfurl before her eyes. 

She had watched in awe as the story had unfurled, the characters had come to life, and the visual spectacle had swept her into its embrace.

As the credits rolled and the applause of the audience resonated around her, Y/n understood why the nation had succumbed to Baahubali‘s enchantment.

Leaving the theatre, Y/n wore a smile that mirrored the newfound appreciation for the magic of movies. She might have been a devotee of modern literature, but in that moment, she had experienced the transformative enchantment of cinema. 

Y/n held a unique perspective on the characters.

Y/n possessed a deep respect for Bahubali, his qualities of honour, bravery, and selflessness impressed her. Bahubali had been a shining example of the qualities Y/n had admired most in people.

Even when it came to the character of Bhallaladeva, who had been universally despised by viewers, Y/n had found herself harbouring a different sentiment. Instead of hatred, she hadn't been able to help but pity him. 

Beneath the layers of villainy and treachery, she had glimpsed a tragic figure, consumed by ambition and insecurity, his actions driven by a thirst for approval.

While the general populace had harboured hatred and disgust for Bhallaladeva, she possessed a unique and empathetic viewpoint. Y/n had peered beneath the layers of cruelty and ambition, recognizing the tragic figure that Bhallaladeva had truly been.

In her eyes, Bhallaladeva hadn't been just a villain; he had been a product of his environment, a victim of his father's ruthless influence.

Y/n believed that if he had grown up in a different setting, devoid of the poisonous presence of his father, he could have evolved into a different, more compassionate person. 

“I can’t believe you feel sorry for Bhallaladeva, Y/n! He’s the ultimate villain!” Gowri, Y/n’s closest friend, argued as she sat across Y/n in the little coffee shop, as Y/n took a sip of her drink and continued looking down at the newspaper.

“Gowri, I know it’s hard to see, but there’s more to his character than just being a villain,” Y/n said, taking another sip, and making Gowri groan, her hazel locks swaying with her dramatic disdain.

“More to him? He’s a murderer, Y/n! He killed his own brother and lusted for his brother's wife, how can you pity someone like him!?” Gowri's grey eyes were full with a sense of determination to prove Bhallaladeva to be a vilian.

“Everyone’s a murderer in this movie, Gowri. Besides, I’m not condoning his actions, but just think about it. He grew up in a toxic environment with a father like Bijjaladeva. The constant pressure, the endless manipulation, the unhealthy influence…” Y/n shuddered, just thinking about what Bhalla likely grew up with.

“That’s no excuse for his treachery. He betrayed his family and his kingdom, he’s disgusting!” Gowri spat. Y/n sighed, finally placing her mug down on the table and laying her paper flat, looking up at Gowri.

"I get that, but I can't help but wonder if, under different circumstances... He might have turned out differently," Y/n said, softly, in a comforting voice. Gowri gaped at her, her mouth open and eyes wide.

"Are you serious? He's power-hungry and ruthless. He deserved the fate that came to him."

"It's just that the complexity of his character intrigues me. What if he felt trapped, burdened by the expectations placed upon him?" Y/n said thoughtfully, “What if he was feeling betrayed by his own mother? That everything that belonged to him was being shared with his cousin? Even that thought wouldn’t be his fault, it would be his father’s.”

"Y/n, he had a choice! He chose evil, plain and simple." Gowri said with a huff, crossing her arms.

"I'm not saying he didn't make terrible choices. It's just that I can't help but feel a sense of pity for someone who may have been a victim of his own circumstances." Y/n’s tone remained gentle.

"I can't believe you're defending him, Y/n," Gowri said in disbelief, shaking her head.

"I'm not defending him, Gowri. I'm just trying to understand. Stories like Baahubali make us question the complexities of human nature and the choices people make." Y/n said, calmly.

“Well, I still think he’s the worst.” Gowri childishly puffed out her cheeks and looked out of the window as Y/n lightly chuckled, shaking her head.

"And that's the beauty of storytelling. It sparks conversations and lets us see things from different angles." Y/n said with a clever smile, eyeing Gowri as she took another short sip of her drink.

Rather than hating Bhallaladeva, Bijjaladeva, the conniving and power-hungry uncle, had been the object of her disdain. Y/n had loathed him for his nefarious influence over his son, Bhallaladeva. 

The sick thoughts and twisted desires he had sown in Bhallaladeva’s mind for his own greed had been inexcusable.

Y/n's fascination didn't stop at the cinema. She had felt compelled to dive deeper into their psyche, to unravel the intricacies of Bhallaladeva and Bahubali’s dynamic, lives, and the forces that had shaped them.

This curiosity led Y/n to embark on a literary journey of her own. She had poured her thoughts, insights, and emotions into a twenty-thousand-word analytical essay, meticulously dissecting the characters and their intertwining destinies. 

Her essay had become a labour of love.

'If I were ever magically given the chance to change the fate of Bhallaladeva and assist him to tread a path of light and goodness, I would value the opportunity and do my best to secure him a good future.'

Little had she known that her writings would soon become more than just words on a page, as destiny had had a mysterious plan in store.

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Taglist: @vellipo-mellaga, @mellaga-karagani, @vayari-bhama, @bitchy-bi-trash (To join the taglist, let me know in the comments, and you will be added to future ones!)

[ahamasmiyodhah]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇; Sivagami messed up real bad.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Bhallaladeva x Manjari (OC)

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘: @mahi-wayy

Devasena huffed as she cradled her swollen belly and swiftly walked towards the Chambers where Bahubali; her Husband and the King of Mahishmati, and Bhallaladeva, her elder brother figure and Commander of Mahishmati's army were planning something.

Things had gone awry when Devasena had took her firm stand up in front of Sivagami Devi, angering the Queen Mother in front of Whole Court. It was surprising, though, to see that Bhallaladeva confessed he didn't wish to marry Devasena anymore, and that Bahubali can marry her.

It would have led to civil war, but Bhallaladeva confronted Sivagami Devi which hurt her sentiments and the big ego she was growing back then, and the woman had declared that Bahubali will be crowned King and Bhallaladeva as Commander, but it came with consequences.

Bijjaladeva disowned his son.

Not that anyone cared, though.

The change in Bhallaladeva surprised both Devasena; who felt he was a snobby arrogant manchild and Bahubali, who was just happy his older brother was back. The two were though confused that who caused this change, and the day they found the answer when the Annual Jagadambika Poojan for nine days started.

The temple amidst intricate carvings and an aura of oil lamps lit up with a rhythmic sound of drums when Bhallaladeva, the fierce and imposing Commander of the Mahishmati Armed Forces, reached the place to join in the auspicious Pooja. There would stand courtiers, priests and noblemen, watching with reverence as the life within the temple, that earthly representative of divine power, the culture surrounding the kingdom.

As Pooja began, his thoughts strayed from rituals and chants toward the grand hall's center where a dancer moved with an entrancing grace. She was Manjari, a dusky-skinned Priestess whose movements turned into poetry, her anklets chiming with every step. She was dressed in red and gold, eyes glittering with a fire that almost matched the flames dancing upon the torches that supported the temple; and so living for the spirit of the goddess she adored. Bhallaladeva, sedate and poised as always, was entranced by Manjari's dance.

He saw each movement unfold as an expression of love and mystery, leading him deep into a trance. Her dance was much more than an art; it was a prayer, a powerful invoking to command every soul there to pay attention. For Bhallaladeva, the man of war and strategy, hardened, it was a profoundly spiritual experience to watch Manjari's ethereal dance.

He was exposed to the emotion-wrenching look in her eyes, the soft yet powerful dance of her figure, and the way that the mere presence of a person seemed to command the space. Amidst the blowing of conch shells and rising smoke of incense, Bhallaladeva came to realize that he was not observing something; but rather he was entranced by thin threads of invisibility connecting him to the divine priestess who danced as if she was calling the gods themselves to bear testimony to her devotion.

Devasena and Bahubali, both were elated that Bhallaladeva loved someone, and even helped him most of the times. Manjari was a Devadasi, hence even Sivagami didn't oppose her coming to Palace to see Devasena as she was pregnant, since a Devadasi is considered auspicious.

But right now, the danger looming over Manjari's head was something which scared Devasena.

The Princess of Kunthala reached the heavy doors and took a deeo breath, commanding the doors to be opened. Once they did, the occupants of room lookes at her. "Devasena? What are you doing here?" Bahubali asked as he and Bhallaladeva ran to her, making her sit on a Couch. Randev, Bahubali's friend brought a tumbler of water and handed it to Devasena.

"Bhalla! You have to run to Shiva Temple right now! Manjari! She's in danger!" Devasena exclaimed, her eyes wide. "What are you saying Devasena? Why will Manjari be in danger?" Bhallaladeva asked. "Rajmata. She wants you to marry the Princess of Simhadhwaja, Princess Yagnika. One of the courtiers told her about you and Manjari, and she has sent Soldiers to.." Bhallaladeva ran out before she could complete her sentence.

.

Manjari was all set to sleep when a shadow outside her hut in Temple sanctum, and the sound of footsteps made her sit straight. Manjari could feel the hammering of her heart in her chest as shadows appeared to move in the faintly lit corners of her room. Then came a whispery rustle of armor; metal faintly glinted, and into this darkness lurked the soldiers, their intent predatory.

Panic ran through her veins. She hastened, those fragile feet not making a sound on the cold marble floor as she slid by the door with her heart pounding with fear and instinct. That temple, once her safe haven, looked now like a trap closing in on her. She ran the maze of temple corridors, taking those ragged, shallow breaths. The soldiers pursued her mercilessly; their footsteps filled the air with an eerie echo of danger nipping at the heels of this poor woman running for life. Her sari fluttered behind her as a banner of defiance yet showed no clear path marked in front. Manjari darted her eyes to and fro searching around for her escape, but every turn took her deeper into the mazes.

Just as she thought she might find her way out, Manjari spun on her heel, the rush of fear fogging her vision, and crashed into something so immovable, so unyielding that it rooted her to the spot. She backpedaled, eyes wide with terror, but when she looked up again she was gazing into Bhallaladeva's face. His towering form filled her entire view, blocking her way out. His gaze, intensive and unreadable, locked onto hers, and the weight of her predicament settled heavily between them.

"Senapathi.." Manjari tearfully hugged him, as The soldiers behind her stopped short, freezing as they saw their doom in Bhallaladeva's eyes.

.

Bhallaladeva's footsteps echoed down the corridors of the palace, hot with indignation. His mind was bubbling over with bitter memories as he moved towards the Shiva Temple to his mother, Sivagami Devi, who was blamed. The Mahishmati kingdom had made her the regal queen mother-words for herself there were law. But to Bhallaladeva, she was a dim silhouette—thick and stern, unforgiving and unsweet. Bhallaladeva recalled how he always wanted his mother's love, even when a child; instead, he would get cold stares and a sharp tongue. Everywhere around him, people went around speaking of his strength and valor, but Sivagami's gaze was always on some fault-finding issue that had never brought across a proud motherly warmth. As he clenched his fists, memories of his childhood rushing back into his mind.

He could still remember all the attempts he had made to win her favor—by mastering the skill of war, performing exceptionally well in his studies, or showcasing his mastery in fights. But all in vain. Sivagami always compared him to his cousin, Amarendra Baahubali, whom she loved like her very son.

Bhallaladeva silently witnessed her when she gushed about everything Baahubali did, offering him that maternal pride Bhallaladeva has always wanted but would never receive. Every smile she threw towards Baahubali felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart as it reminds him of how he shall always be second in her eyes. Meanwhile, recalling the favours of Sivagami, Bhallaladeva ran toward the temple.

He recalled the day he was winning the fight in the ground, but she picked Baahubali, making known her decision that the throne would be bagged by him who served people best and not by him who sought power. The words had hurt him, and he recalled them every moment in his life.

He is not a son to her; on the contrary, he was a brutal man with an insatiable will to dominate, unbefitting the prince for which he had striven for his life. Bhallaladeva did not utter the pain, covering it with layers of ambitions and anger within him, and today the facade was crumbling apart. Before him was the temple, its massive structure jarringly contrasting the chaos within his soul.

Bhallaladeva's breath was laboured, his face screwed up in a snarl as he stormed up the steps, his eyes blazing with the fire of years-long pent-up resentment. This place, consecrated to the god of destruction, seemed apt for the storm that brewed inside him.

Today Bhallaladeva was not marching up to a temple; he was marching against the shackles of his whole life left untouched with scorn and negligence, every stride taken as a defiant act against the mother who never did see him for who he was.

Just as he turned in corner, a horrified Manjari ran into him. Looking in her eyes he realised how scared she was. Her dusky cheeks were red with all the crying, her eyes wide in fear and pain. Clutching her sari around her body, Manjari hugged him tightly. "Manjari, I'm here.. do not worry. Just... Close your eyes. You might not want to see." He said softly and Manjari nodded.

.

Thunder cackled in sky as Sivagami Devi sat on her throne, Bahubali and Devasena sitting nearby. The two were concerned as they waited Bhallaladeva's arrival. Soon the thunder cackled aloud, flashing the corridor in which stood a man holding a sword.

Sivagami Devi looked up, a shiver running down her spine as a bloody sight of a furious Bhallaladeva, and noted the flutter of a plain Red saree behind him. Bhallaladeva moved and her eyes widened when she saw Manjari, her hair partition filled with red Sindoor as he grabbed her hand and pulled her in, the girl looking fearful.

"Mother, meet your daughter-in-law, Manjari." He grinned, a grin which scared the three. Sivagami looked appalled, her wide eyes on Manjari as she looked at her from head to toe, her anger returning. "Bhalla!? What is this!?" She screamed.

Sivagami Devi's voice was at once shrill with indignation and robust as she berated Bhallaladeva with a flare in her eyes. "How dare you go against me to marry that temple dancer, Manjari?" she yelled, her speech loaded with scorn. "I wanted you to marry Yagnika, the Princess of Simhadhwaja, and seal an alliance for Mahishmati!" Her voice was robust, but behind it lay a hollow frustration—Bhallaladeva had gone against her wishes again.

Bhallaaladeva snapped. Climbing to his feet, he shouted into her face, "All my life, I've been nothing but a pawn in your schemes!" His voice was shaking with all the anger he felt, festering over the years. "You cared not for what I wanted, only for what you were about- your ambition. I am done living under your shadow," he said, the bitterness in his words as he confronted a mother who would never see him past his utility.

He took a step forward, eyes blazing with defiance. "I love Manjari," he said, his voice carrying through tension. "She sees me for what I am, not what she can get from me. I married her because she is my choice, not yours. I won't let you dictate my life again." Bold, defiant-a challenge flung at the feet of the woman who had always controlled his fate.

And for one moment, she was left speechless by this tirade, losing all her expression. Bhallaladeva's defiance shattered all the rigid expectations she had always imposed upon the world around her and created a chasm between them that seemed impossible to bridge. She could see him not as the son she had shaped but for the first time ever the man he had become, driven by a love that defied her will.

Sivagami soon moulded her expressions back in the cold one as she stood up. "You also are going like someone who once defied me." Bahubali looked away at that.

"Do not blame Bahu, Mother." Bhallaladeva sneered. "Manjari came in my life way before Devasena came in Bahu's life. And I won't let you dictate my life anymore." Bhallaladeva said. Sivagami stared at them for a moment before fleeting her eyes at Manjari, and left.

"Bhalla, you scared us!" Devasena exclaimed as she waddled fastly towards them and hugged Manjari. "Oh dear, you are so scared. Come, I will take you to room so that you can rest." She said and Manjari numbly nodded, before going with Devasena.

Manjari glanced back at Bhallaladeva, her heart pounding as she took in his imposing figure, drenched in blood from the fierce battle he had fought to protect her. His fierce gaze softened as it met hers, revealing a rare tenderness and love in his eyes. Overwhelmed by the realization of her deep feelings for him, she blushed, her cheeks turning a deep crimson. She gave him a small, shy smile before turning away.

.

.

.

.

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@vishnavishivaa @mahi-wayy @yehsahihai @xxdritaxx @houseofbreadpakoda @ramayantika @warnermeadowsgirl @stxrrynxghts @mayakimayahai @chaliyaaa @celestesinsight @sambaridli @desigurlie @hum-suffer @sanskari-kanya @zeherili-ankhein @krsnaradhika @thegleamingmoon @ulaganayagi @voidsteffy @krishna-sangini @nidhi-writes @kaal-naagin @thecrazyinktrovert @koklknthiapsara

[myvarya]

~Dahi besan~

Bhalladeva x reader!oc

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Warning : fluff.

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“We have to find a way to eliminate Bahubali!” Bijjalladeva almost shouted, while Bhalladeva looked down and sighed, nodded his head. “Today's meeting is over.” he ordered everyone. Bijjalladeva grunted and limped away, with his followers following him. Slowly his room got empty, with just him. He went to his balcony to clear his thoughts and get some fresh air.

He heard throat clearing noise and chuckled. He turned around to find his one and only Meethi. She had a mischievous smile with her hands on waist looking at him. “did you miss me? Ofcourse you did!” she ran and hugged Bhalladeva with all her might. Bhalla didn't complain, it's the thing he needed the most right now, especially after a conversation with father, cause what the fuck was that!

He buried his face in her neck, smelling his favourite scent, “ok! Cuddling later” she broke the hug and took him to his bed and pushed him. He looked at her confused, he still remembers how they for the first time. Meethi had just got a job in the royal palace, yes she is a normal worker, but she stole his heart his when she broke that vase of his, and gave back sticking it together messily, it is still kept in a corner of his room, what? He wants to remember how he met her.

She back with bowl mixing somthing together, “lay on pillow properly!” she ordered and he did, immediately. She climbed on him, she tched, but wiped her fingers on her choli, she took one small piece of thread and tied bhalla front hair, like coconut tree. After doing that she took that blow and started putting the mask she made for him.

“What is this?” he asked curiously, “this is besan, dahi, and haldi, for you.” she replied, her toung sticking out a little, concentrating while putting on the mask, while he just admired her. “But why are putting this on me?” he again, “oho! Baby you have so many questions! Look at you, you look so tanned! And tired too. that's why!” she completed. He smiled sweetly listening to her, only she can talk to him like this, no one else, no one else has the audacity to even question him.

“Done!” she exclaimed breaking him out his thoughts, “isse gora ho jaunga mein?” he asked looking at himself in the mirror beside the bed, Meethi who was beside him, putting the leftover on her face nodded, “give me, I will put it go for you.” he took the blow from her hand and started putting the mask on her face.

“Done!” he exclaimed after a while, they both fell on the bed looking at the celling to let the mask dry.

Bhalla who was bored took his index finger and took a little mask on it and tasted it. He immediately frowned his eyebrows and stuck his toung out of his mouth at the bitter taste, Meethi immediately slapped his bicep, “ew, why would you do that! It doesn't taste nice” she scolded, “could've told me earlier” he told with little anger in his voice, she looked at him with eyes, he immediately shut up and looked down, “i have ordered snacks from the kitchen! No need to eat the mask” she completed.

He nodded, but shot up, “what if they saw us like this!” he asked panicking, Meethi immediately shot up as well, “oh no, I didn't think about that!” suddenly they heard a knock and he immediately pushed her behind his bed to hide, he went dusted his hand and made a pocker face, and went to open the door.

He saw the dasi who holding the plate full of snacks, but she looked as if she has seen a ghost, he didn't pay any mind to her and dismissed her, she immediately went away, to talk to her friends about the new look of the prince Bhalladeva.

He closed the door and put the plate on the bed, Meethi came out her hiding spot and started laughing hysterically, "why are you laughing like a bull?” he asked nonchalantly, Meethi stops immediately, “says the one who looks like one!” she replied back, he rolled his eyes and turned around only his appearance in mirror, his eyes widened, “Oh lord!!” he almost shouted, Meethi again couldn't help but wheeze at his misery. “This is all because of you” he said almost stomping his foot on the ground like a child, “Oh my baby!” she said cooing him and dragging him to the bathroom to wash of the mask on his face, which was not completely dry but it didn't matter now.

Bhalla came after washing his face, and laid on the bed with a slight pout, soon Meethi came after cleaning herself up. She saw how bhalla was behaving, she climbed the bed and big spooned him. He tried to get out of grip but she tightly hugged him. Few mins later he turned around to see her still looking at him with a idiotic smile on her face. He didn't say anything and buried his face in face, mumbling something to himself.

“don't worry about that vimala, I will handle her later!” she said, gently caressing his hair, he nodded and hugged her. “i love you.” he mumbled.

“I love you too my dahi bhalla.” she completed kissing his forehead. Slowly sleep indulged them.

The snacks were still there on the bed getting cold.

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I don't know what I just wrote but this is something came in my mind at 3 am in the morning. And also this slightly inspired by hehe- @mayakimayahai. I don't know after the conversation with her, gave this idea.

@tumharisakhi @ahamasmiyodhah @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @ranisingsnew @mahi-wayy @ranisingnewyetagian .

[mahi-wayy]

Next part of toxic please

It’s been too long .NEED.GIVEE

A/n : here you go anon. also this fic supports my headcanon that bhalla inner monologs like a tired eldest daughter who wants to set the world on fire.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 - 𝐈𝐈𝐈 | 𝑻𝑶𝑿𝑰𝑪

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Bhalla really questioned if this was the same place he and his brother had to create such a ruckus to sneak inside. It was definitely tougher to pass these guards last time.

The thoughts don't stay long in his mind however, his eyes catching the familiar golden fabric. He grins before his feet take him after the light footsteps.

He comes to stop around the brothel part of the city, woman after woman in sight but not the one he was looking for. He makes it a point to ignore the catcalls and whistles as he walks in the area, he was almost out of the area when he was pulled inside one of the rooms.

“What the-” The curse dies on his tongue when he comes face to face with the one he was looking for. Now changed into a little more covering blouse and skirt as she rubs her wet hair.

“The older prince of Mahishmati, the upcoming king. What brings you to a place like this?”

Her voice was higher pitched than a male but it had that weight that was unique to it, it wasn't that it was deep like his own but it still made him feel the bass of things she spoke.

“You do, why didn't you reply to the proposal sent to you.”

“I wasn't in the kingdom, I don't know about any proposals.”

“And yet you recognize me in one glance.”

He smirks as a smile forms on those beautiful lips.

“Caught aren't I. I do know that you want to marry me but it's also true I wasn't in the kingdom to write a reply. Your highness.”

She speaks picking up a glass of wine sipping from it before offering it to him.

“Right, so can I ask what brings you here…”

He trails off bringing the glass up to his lips, his eyes locking on the way her's sparkled in utter fascination before they widen when he lets the glass slip and clatter on the floor.

He really got himself a interesting woman.

“...other than trying to poison me and killing people.”

He watches as she blinks before breaking out in a full smile and he is suddenly made aware that he had a heart which was literally banging against his ribcage to let out with how fast it was beating.

“You're fascinating.”

Her voice once again draws his attention to her as she steps in his personal space, her hands planting themselves on his chest before she pushed him back to have him sit down on the bed.

“You're interesting.”

He replies, his brow raising as she slips on his lap, her legs on his either side of his waist and arms looped around his shoulders. His arms work on autopilot to, circling her waist to prevent her from sliding down.

For several minutes they just stare at each other before she leans forward and he leans back.

“What?”

“As much as I find you interesting, you aren't sleek enough for me to forget that those lips of yours are covered in poison.”

“Smart.”

“I'm the only one in my family, trust me on that one.”

She hmmed slipping off his lap to sit beside him, messing with her bangles.

“The men I killed were former soldiers, who were planing on treason.” She said, looking at him.

“Why don't arrest and kill them infront of kingdom?”

“To keep the fear? tempting but I like deception more.”

Interesting. She liked deception, no wonder her reputation is totally different from-well her.

“My mother wishes to see you.” He says. The woman looks at him, there is a sparkle in them, like something inside him was being reflected in her eyes.

“Sure.”

They leave that night, it's quite a journey with both of them riding their own horses side by side. Singhpuram wasn't far from Mahishmati but it wasn't exactly near either.

Hence why it had one stop between it, a small lake used by villages nearby and travelers as a water source.

It was rather early in the morning, the sun wasn't up fully just sneaking enough to dull the darkness of the night sky and Bhalla was reminded he hadn't slept. Like all past eighteen hour-ish. Good thing his father's temper tantrum conditioned him to stay up at ungodly hours.

How else was he supposed to witness her in almost all her glory-those under clothes just to cloth around her chest and skirt barely reached the end of her thighs-testing the water with her feet before stepping it.

Was it rude to stare? very much. His mother would have his head not such a princely act but the thing was his mother would have his head for just about anything. This way to at least get a view before he dies or whatever.

He was tempted to join. He really was but Bhalla was a creature of habit and he would rather drown himself in the boiling water he gets in his baths than this poor lake.

For now he will just look at the view.

And in his defence from his earlier point of staring, he hasn't made a single protest that he can't watch. He wasn't a goodie two shoes to not take that hint, that was his brother.

She didn't look at him during her short bath, at least directly, he was very much aware of not so sneaky glances.

Oh did he mention he was at least washing his face and very much shirtless right now.

He follows her figure as she walks out of water, hair damp and clothes sticking to her figure, averting his gaze away once she reaches the tree and flaura cover.

He was an anti-social plotter not a pervert. Thank you very much.

Her outfit is better fitting for a princess, a little more loose, covering-not practical at all-and shiny. He blinks at the red fabric of the ridiculous long skirt reflecting the early sun rays, it makes him scowl because his eyes hurt.

Gotta love sleep deprivation.

He climbed the horse first, before helping her sideways, her left side pressed against his chest, her chunari wrapped around her covering torso and half of her face.

By the time they reached the palace, it was ticking to late afternoon. He swore in at least six different ways in his head as he noticed Devasena of all people came to welcome them.

His perfect poker held up as he climbed down the horse and helped the princess. The princess walked upstairs, her veil falling off her head, her now dry hair flowing behind her. A caramel contrast to blood red fabric.

He bites his tongue to suppress the scoff and the disapproval in Devasena's eyes, she has a good poker face but he has been reading people since he was like five.

“I hope you forgive my appearance princess, I was under some work when your highness came to me.” Mohini says.

Her voice is smooth, letting her words flow in a way he hasn't talked back in Singapuram.

“It's not a big hindrance. I am sure the palace has things worthy of you.” Devasena replied.

Bhalla almost whistled from the sheer tension, he was sure he would be able to cut it with a sword in thick slices.

It was all okay he guesses, boring even, when both females did not exchange more words heading inside.

That was until, she stopped in her tracks-Devasena parted ways with them ahead-turning to right and they, conditioned for years to catch it, picked up a familiar strong footsteps.

Mother.

His eyes flickered to her, who honest to god was smiling, heading in the direction of footsteps.

His life just got a hell lot interesting.

-----

tags : @mayakimayahai @warnermeadowsgirl @voidsteffy @jkdaddy01 @rambheem-is-real @allari-ammayi @mellaga-karagani @ulaganayagi @ahamasmiyodhah @ranisingnewyetagian @myvarya @toomanyfanficsbruh @harinishivaa @chaliyaaa @tumharisakhi

[ahamasmiyodhah]

The way I choked on water-

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

TO BE CONTINUED

_______________________________________

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

[sada-siva-sanyaasi]

jagadeka veerudu athiloka sundari - bhallaladeva

masterlist

title translation- universal hero and the otherworldly beauty

pairing - bhallaladeva x oc

warnings - none

(helloooooo, came back to write after a long long time, how've you guys been? my stupid friend @bluecookies-and-ink requested this and wanted to read, and who am I to deny? this is a new attempt for me, I think, so I might screw up please forgive me. and, a heads up, this particular version has a fantasy angle too, so enjoy! feedback is greatly appreciated, toodaloo! -Juhi <3)

Bhallaladeva watched as the entire kingdom of Mahishmati went up in flames, riots and screams of the people all around the palace as they mourned the loss of his brother, Bahubali. His younger brother, the cousin who ruined his life, who stole the kingdom, his mother’s love, the people and the woman he desired. 

His grip on the dagger in his hands grew tighter as his guards struggled to contain the hysteria outside, his anger threatening to erupt any second. Devasena screamed at him as she got dragged away, cursing and promising that he would never be happy as he killed her husband. Bhalla wanted to scoff at that; it’s as if he was ever really happy.

His father, Bijjaladeva scowled as Kattappa was brought back, thrown at the feet of the throne. Kattappa looked up, bruised and defeated as Bijjaladeva scowled harder.

“Don’t tell me Kattappa, you actually thought that Sivagami or that vermin would survive? You’re a slave to the throne, to Bhalla, never forget.”

Kattappa sighed, the weight of losing his Bahu heavy on his heart, and stood up. He bowed wordlessly to the throne, to the man sat on it, and walked out of the room, leaving Bhalla and his father all alone. Bhalla watched him leave and stood up, walking out to the balcony. The people were not as loud as before, although they were still crying, the fires that had started because of the riots had gone down, and the Sun began to rise.

Bijjaladeva turned to the guards and beckoned them forward, his eyes going back to his son standing outside soundlessly. “Make sure every single sound made by those infidels is snubbed by the Sun setting today. It’s a new day and my son shall rule gloriously, right Bhalla?”

Bhalla stood and watched his kingdom roar, his hands shaking by his sides. He would rule, and he would be the only one ruling.

— — 

Mahishmati had a lot of neighbours, including Kuntala which produced the princess Devasena. Kuntala was a small kingdom but was mighty in its own accord, full of fine warriors. The news of Devasena’s husband dying in a battle and the princess herself vanishing with her child, and the sudden death of the Queen mother of Mahishmati spread like wildfire amongst all of Mahishmati’s neighbours.

They knew the truth, but wouldn’t dare to speak up in fear of Bhallaladeva and his ruthless reign. And so everyone silently accepted Bhallaladeva as their emperor and let him take over their mighty but smaller kingdoms, because they all wanted to live.

Everyone, that is, except for the kingdom of Sundarsi. 

Sundarsi was not as big as Mahishmati, but was a fierce and formidable hermit kingdom that few dared to venture into. No one knew a lot about Sundarsi, but they knew enough to not step close to them. And Bijjaladeva knew this, and understood that a kingdom of their value under Mahishmati would change the course of Mahishmati and his son’s legacy.

He watched as his son ruled over Mahishmati and the neighbours royally for months and his patience began to dwindle, Bhalla’s loneliness irking him.

“Bhalla,” he tried once again as they sat together, feasting, “how long will you be alone? This empire of yours needs an Empress too, not just you as a mighty ruler. They need to see someone beside you as a piece of decoration at least.”

“They could’ve seen Devasena.” Bhalla murmured, not looking up at him while Bijjaladeva fumed. “Devasena is in our prison locked and tortured, and has been so for months! Are you still going to keep thinking about that bitch?” 

He took a deep breath and steadied himself, turning to look at the guards, Kattappa standing in front of them. “Hey Kattappa, don’t you think this kingdom requires a Queen?” Kattappa just nodded, head still down. “Yes, sire.”

Bhallaladeva rolled his eyes, standing up to walk out, but paused near Kattappa. “You really think this palace needs another woman in it after what happened to the Queen Mother and your Bahu’s wife?” Kattappa finally looked up at him and sighed. “I can’t be sure, Your Majesty. A lot could happen with the arrival of a Queen to the empire, but I can’t think of anyone worthy from the kingdoms you’ve conquered.”

Bijjaladeva clapped and nodded, rushing towards them. “Of course none of those kingdoms are worthy enough to produce a Queen for our throne, but you know who is? Sundarsi and their young princess, Aarya.”

Kattappa frowned, lowering his head. “Pardon me, but Sundarsi is just not any ordinary kingdom, Your Majesty. We don’t even know-” “Then get to know, Kattappa.” Bijjaladeva interrupted, dismissively waving his hand. “Get to know all you can about that not-any-ordinary kingdom, and let us know. We should know more about our next conquest, shouldn’t we?” 

They all turned to Bhalla, as he stood silently. His father eagerly nudged him and he shrugged, nodding before he turned and stormed off. Kattappa bowed once and walked out with a few other soldiers, leaving Bijjaladeva alone. He chuckled to himself, sauntering back to the table and grabbing a glass of wine. 

“Soon,” he murmured, drinking the wine wolfishly. “Soon that mysterious kingdom will be ours too. You just wait and watch, Princess Aarya.”

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

taglist is open!

@manwalaage @thewinchestergirl1208 @lil-stark @ramayantika @seherie @rambheem-is-real @gauri-vishalakshi @rambheemisgoated @itsfookingloosah @irisesforyoureyes @chaanv @othersideoftheparadise @ramcharantitties @ramcharanobsessed @bromance-minus-the-b @ma-douce-souffrance @flyinlove

[ramcharantitties]

Sita's Box

RRR

(Alluri Ramaraju x reader)

NSFW

SFW

Sangam Tera part 2

7 minutes

tera rasta chhodun na

piya ji ke desh mein

dhokadadhi

aaj ibaadat

sajda

tera aadi ho gaya

barfaani raatein

diwali

Nadi kinaare

Series

raghuvan, teri raah nihaare (completed) with @dumdaradumdaradum

when Ram returned home after years of study, he didn't expect such chaos to fall. What will happen when an educated man betrothed to another falls in love with the owner of a brothel? - Ram x oc, akhtar x oc, bhansali!au (almost)

radha

Ram and his wife adopts a daughter under unfavorable circumstances, how will their life turn out now? - Ram x reader, oneshots

bandook meri layla with @rambheemlove

RRR au, where Ramaraju is assigned a case where he finds out who caused the RC organization art expo bomb blast and exactly why was one of the top trader of arms in India was present there. - Ram x mafia!oc, Akhtar x Jenny

Tumhe jo maine dekha (completed) (nsfw)

Ram sir, were your theatre professor in uni. Far away from your city, you found the best college to take admission somewhere foreign to you, but he was one hell of a support. And something more. - Prof!Ram x Stu!reader

Accha Lagta Hai

a short series of Ram and Y/n's domestic life - RRR au, Ram x reader

Other Woman (completed)

Ram was the best husband. The most caring and wholesome, and no one could love you more than him. There is no way he will leave you, right?- RRR au, Ram x reader, cheating fic

Rasiya (completed) (nsfw)

It wasn't like you weren't getting any action, but you always felt that Ram held back so he does not hurt you. Maybe this potion Jenny got you will help in some way?- RRR!Ram x fem! Wife! Reader, Aphrodisiac fic

Rangrez (ongoing)

Alluri Sitaramaraju, crosses paths with Kainat, a woman with a mysterious past. They gradually uncover each other's hidden pasts, discovering that both have been deeply involved in the struggle for freedom- for or against? Heeramandi(oc) x RRR(Ram)

Randomayan

how i picture y/n in my fics (rrr)

dekha tha

hanahaki

dhivara (amrendra bahubali x reader)

chot (kala bhairav from magadheera x reader)

KGF

Fanart

Drunk convos

Gun

[yugantaram]

I’m Siri.

I’m here to write a fic.

My fandoms are : ToG, ACoTaR, Harry Potter (obviously), Shades of magic series, His Dark Materials... Bahubali, marvel movies,

These are more like the fics that are on hold.

1) Sanga x Sivagami

I started this in November last year 😂To tell you more about it.. it’s Sanga and sivagami’s interaction had sivagami survived the flooded jeevanadhi.

2) Roman Whitethorn x Aelin Whitethorn-Galathynius

I love them. If you don’t know them they are the lead in Throne of Glass series by Sarah. J. Maas. The fic I started is ancient 😂. I wanted to see how they’d discover Aelin’s pregnancy.

3) Bhalla x Mallika (oc)

It’s something I’ve thought a lot about. I have just begun writing it. Mallika is an original character that I envision as Bhalla and Baahu’s maradalu. She is present throughout the original story and she marries Bhalla. I just deviate a little though the original to accommodate this fiery princess.

[allari-ammayi]

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

Wife | Pt.2 《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! OC☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was Bhalla hiding under there?

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

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

On his mighty grand bed, lay Bhalladeva.

The king.

The warrior.

The ruler.

Her husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happened to the king?

And another one.

Why did he need her to stay with him?

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

Why her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Show him a motherly kind of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes the simplest answers give the most effective results.

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

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

Simple.

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

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

This thought caused Pooja to stop and think.

True.

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

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

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

Was it a medical condition?

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

And if so, what exactly was that traumatic past?

Why did Bhalla need someone her to calm him down?

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

And the most curious.

What lay behind the velvet cloth?

What was it a portrait of?

Or rather, who was it of?

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 @vijayasena

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

[myvarya]

~The Unspoken Vow~

-Kalki X FemOc-

Introduction~

Chapter 1~

Chapter 2~

Chapter 3~

Chapter 4~

Chapter 5~

Chapter 6~

Chapter 7~

Chapter 8~

Chapters may be added further according to the storyline.

Luv Luv 💗

[allari-ammayi]

Wife | Pt.1《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! OC☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bhalla was not there.

She waited an hour.

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

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

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

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

But it was never the case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t even lust after us.”

“What..?” Pooja said, her motuh agape.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Pooja never gave up hope.

Or at least not till the third month.

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

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

Was it even worth waiting anymore?

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

Pooja’s heart jumped and butterflies attacked her stomach.

Could it be..?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》

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

[ahamasmiyodhah]

OH DAMN

Deepika Padukone as Maharani Ayudhina ; Prabhas as Yuvraj Amrendra Bahubali for my fic Serenade Of The Lost Blood. | Masterlist

[allari-ammayi]

Butta Bomma

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬➜

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

𝐓.𝐖➜

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

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟏

𝐏𝐫𝐞-𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞➜

The Interesting Perspective

The New World

The Angel Lady

The Harsh Interrogation

The Monkey Woman

The Snarky Prince

The Etiquette Lessons

The Language Barrier

The Political Genius

The Mahismati Festival

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟐

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 ⌗𝟏➜

The Scripted Starting

The Dancing Beauty

The Affectionate Prince

The Gruesome Battle

The Vitory Horror

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟑

𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 ⌗𝟐➜

The Dangerous Thoughts

The Kuntala Quest

The Royal Gardens

The Deciding Day

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟒

𝐁𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢'𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞➜

The Kuntala Journey

The Charming Princess

The Kuntala Palace

The Dreamer Boy

The Hunting Party

The Krishna Pooja

The Marriage Proposal

The Silent Attack

The Lady’s Choice

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Rejoiced Couple

The Wedding Night

The Jealous Banishment

The Back-Stabber

The Final Sob

The Honoured Dead

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Stubborn Prince

The Jealous Husband

The Painful Coronation

The Run-Away Wife

The Reunited Lovers

The Old Beginnings

𝐀𝐫𝐜 ⌗𝟓

𝐁𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐚'𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐞➜

The Library Roaming

The Compensating Gifts

The Hidden Portrait

The Risky Plan

The Portrait Showing

The Insistent Girl

The False Confession

The Impulsive Promise

The King’s Confession

𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Defeated King

The Heart Problems

The Exiled Duo

The Discontent Girl

The Confidential News

The Sweet Embrace

𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠➜

The Impressive Queen

The Romantic King

The Revealed Secret

The Destroyed Amulet

The Two-Faced Liar

The Tragic End

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

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

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞➜

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

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

[allari-ammayi]

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

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

Wife | Pt. 1《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! Reader☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bhalla was not there.

She waited an hour.

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

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

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

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

But it was never the case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t even lust after us.”

“What..?” Y/n said, her motuh agape.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But y/n never gave up hope.

Or at least not till the third month.

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

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

Was it even worth waiting anymore?

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

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

Could it be..?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mahi-wayy]

it's 3 am. I'm writing a bhalla fic for God knows what reason. @mayakimayahai is not answering her text.

What is going on?