#chola king

[rensunggiemon]

.

[fishnets-fingers]

Can I Have This Dance?

“I can recall the dressmakers sewing buttons on your shirt,” she points out, pushing off the door as she saunters towards the dresser. Her eyes unashamedly rake over the exposed skin of his chest.

“Did they?” He makes a show of feeling around for the buttons.

She rolls her eyes, taking off the pins on her head, and her hair cascades down her shoulder.

“I think you left something on the dance floor, Princess.” He produces her anklet from inside his jacket pocket. Y/N lifts up her saree and looks down to see that her left leg bereft of the gold rope.

"I hadn’t noticed,” she whispers, reaching out to take it from him.

“Allow me,” he says, quickly bending down. He looks up at her asking for permission and she nods. He carefully places her feet on his knee and fastens the gold chain, moving it around so the lotus motif faces him. His fingers linger and before he knows it he’s leaning down to press a kiss on her foot.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

warning - smut oral (f receiving), handjob

Word Count - 10.8k (not proofread) 

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

….

விருந்து. Feast. Harry’s had many dinners in his life that he’d consider a feast, whether that be hunched close to a boiling pot of stew - absorbing the warmth of the cracking fire - on  the ship with his father’s crew, stuffing his face by a candle post near a hole in the wall inn at a foreign country, tearing pieces of cured meat as he rationed his supplies on his missions, and gobbling up anything comestible with the Crown Prince at battle tents. But he’ll never forget the fanciest dinner, the Princes extended an invite for him to come dine with them one night after his riding lesson. So, he put on his best clothing, slicked back his hair using aloe vera, walked into the palace for the feast, and was seated beside the younger Prince. Despite the sumptuous spread in front of him, his eyes kept drifting over to the Princess, who was hunched over the province’s ledgers - absentmindedly chewing -  at the other end of the table, shooting glaring looks when they got too rowdy.

Compared to that palatial dinner he’s experienced, the informal dinner at Handuman was pompously grandiose. A feast of sorts. The King, Queen and their children of Handuman sat amongst hundreds of flickering candles. The table was filled with bronze statues and sampaguita garlands weaving between the plates of food. The Queen had just finished telling the Chola Princesses and her children the story of Rosita and Delphin -  a favourite bedtime story of hers. She was gracious and kind, often stopping by the servants and guards' quarters to make sure that they were acclimated from their travels. The Queen’s fondness for the two young Chola Princesses only grew since their first interaction, especially since they asked her questions about her homeland - the Philippines. Harry heard from the Guard Captain that the King was very impressed by Y/N’s ingenuity, when it came to changing some of the finer print of the trade agreement. 

He'd been in and out of the castle, following up on some leads for the Crown Prince, but he’d made sure to run the security detail with the guards several times before handing over the reins to the Captain - who’d been the Princess’ shadow since the moment they set foot here. The elephant parade and accompanying fanfare led by the Handuman Prince at the port made it clear that it was more than just a warm welcome; he was trying to tout himself for Princess Y/N. 

This particular night, he found himself standing a few feet behind Y/N’s seat beside the captain. The two best friends were talking amongst themselves in hushed voices, when Y/N tittered pointing at Princess Shobhita’s lap. He couldn’t see their expressions, but whatever the Princess Royal said, made Shobhita pick up the tassels hanging from the end of her braid and smack Y/N’s arm playfully, making the two giggle. The door bursts open, just as Shobita opens her mouth to say something, and the Handuman Prince saunters into the room.

“Princess Y/N,” he calls. “I have something for you.” He claps, grabbing a velvet box from the guard behind him. 

Harry peers to see a necklace with three rows of large jagged white uncut diamonds with irregular long pearls dangling at the bottom. It was an impressive gift but Y/N’s jewellery collection was intricate and magnificent, telling the story of her kingdom and the artists who made them. How gaudy, he thinks. 

“Thank you, Prince Vinay. Certainly very gracious of your family,” Y/N nods a thank you towards the King and Queen. 

“Only the best for our visitors. I did not forget about you Princess Shobita.” He passes a small brooch to her. She responds with a shy thank you but Y/N notices the corner of her best friend's mouth pulling downwards. 

“One could well appreciate the thought you’d put into both of our gifts,” she said sweetly, but it wasn’t lost on Harry that Y/N was pointing out his tactlessness. The Handuman Prince’s generosity towards Y/N’s best friend was merely an afterthought. It was evident that Prince Vinay disregards people unless they’re beneficial to him.

Prince Vinay plops down on the vacant chair at the other end of the table, reaching for the stuffed quail. “Father, did you know that the serfs get paid in Chozhamandalam,” he rolls his eyes, making the King chuckle. “It’s foolish,” he pointedly stares at Y/N.

“It’s hardly ludicrous. I do not think it is just for generations of people to be bound to serve a Crown if they do not wish to.”

“Princess Y/N, people should know their place,” he bluntly states. 

“What place would that be?”

“Beneath us, of course.” Prince Vinay laughs. “You plant the seed of social mobility amongst them and they will think they are capable of ruling the world.”

“My Prince, do you not think remuneration is vital for the well-being of palace staff?” Shobita asks.

“A large dose of fear amongst the serfs is all one needs. You would know more about loyalty and fear of the crown better than most, would you not? You are a vassal princess after all,” he sneers.

Harry’s body prickles with rage at the blatant disrespect demonstrated towards Shobita. And the  way Y/N’s fingers tighten around the plush armrest, his body springs to a renewed state of alertness ready to intervene. The Guard Captain leans forward in anticipation of the Princess Royal, despite the Princess Royal’s history of maintaining her composure. 

“I am done for the night,” Princess Y/N declares. “It was a wonderful spread, my Queen,” she nods graciously, standing up and Princess Shobita follows along. 

“Darlings, stay. You have hardly consumed anything,” the Queen implores.

“Princess Y/N, Princess Shobita,” the King clears his throat. “Do not take dinner table conversations to heart.”

“I am not, your highness. It has been a tiresome day of negotiations for a mutually beneficial treaty and I wish to retire.”

“Goodnight, your highnesses,” Shobita says and they both curtsy before leaving.

When they were out of earshot, Shobita pipes up, “I can’t believe you walked out.”

“Would you rather I tell him off for disrespecting you? Twice.” Y/N raises her eyebrows.

“You cannot be quick tempered. We are here for Crown’s business,” Shobita reminds her. 

“I am well aware,” she mutters, turning a corner.

��Princess Y/N,” the Captain catches her attention. “The bedchambers are to your right.”

“I am taking a stroll through the garden. They have lilies that bloom at night, I am told. Do you want to join me, Shobs?”

Her friend nods, “Some fresh air ought to do us both some good.”

“Would that be a problem for you two?” Y/N turns around to face the two men. 

“No, ma’am. Although I can’t say the same for Harry here, he has had a certain vigour for the nightly excursions since we arrived” the Captain says. 

Harry throws him a dirty look. The Captain has gotten in his face about the importance of a fitful night’s sleep to be more alert and he has politely asked him to keep his nose out of his business. He knows the Captain’s pride does not take to the fact that the Crown Prince had put him in charge of the guards.

Princess Y/N raises her eyebrows at him curiously, and before she could comment, Harry reassures the two women, “It would not, your highnesses.”

////

“I do not think it wise to make our way to the markets, Y/N,” Shobita advises, perching on the closest chair next to the window overlooking the sunrise . “The ball is in two days and I reckon everyone in town wants a glimpse of you.”

“You worry too much, Shobs.” 

The younger Princess sighs, there was no changing her friend’s mind once she desires something. “How are you planning to convince the Captain for a market visit?”

“Harry is in charge of security,” Y/N reminds her. “I can get him to agree to it.”

“You seem fairly confident with that.”

Y/N shrugs. “I know how to get my way.”

Shobita narrows her eyes. Y/N rarely referred to the spy by his given name and lost was the tone of vexation that came when talking about him. Shobita was no ingenue; she presented herself in a way that was taught to her. The way that delighted people around her. The Princess Royal was brave, generous and curious, so she sought to guide herself in a timid and magnanimous manner. In her reluctance to conduct herself in a boisterous way, she hoped to inspire people to treasure their quiet strength in the face of perseverance. After all, she was raised to become one of the Queens of Chozamandalam the moment she drew her first breath, she only thought it apt to show her people that there was more than one kind of fortitude. But it does not mean that she was oblivious.

She first picked up on the lack of unease in Y/N a few days into their voyage. The way she seemed to look forward to nightfall on the ship, the way she was hunched over the star maps with a look of determination that was only present when Y/N wanted to prove her brothers wrong, the way she would quickly break into a coy smile upon her return to their cabin at dawn. She had deduced that something else was occupying Y/N’s mind, pulling her away, inhibiting her from pondering over her self professed bleakness of the seas. 

“What?” Y/N asks, breaking her away from her thoughts.

“You never wish to speak to, Mister Styles,” she points out.

“I do not wish to, yes. But I still have to.”

“Because he is a spy?”

“Precisely. And until we are in Handuman, the head of guards.”

Shobita nods. “Are you not irked that you have to convince him to get to visit the markets?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “What are you fishing for, Shobs?” Her interactions with Harry on the ship only happened in the cover of nightfall away from prying eyes. And since they docked at Handuman, she had made certain that there was not a single glance shared in his direction. She had been busy with her minister and the Handuman court the past days, and he was off doing whatever her older brother had requested him to do.

“Nothing.”

“Look,” Y/N takes a deep breath. “I absolutely hate that the mighty Crown Prince has commanded his way to let the spy,” she laces all the contempt she could muster in that last word, “be incharge of my whereabouts. I want nothing to do with any of it. Truly. But I want to go to markets with my best friend and he annoyingly is the only one who could approve of the visit. So I am merely playing nice to get my way.”

“Alright. Lead the way.” Shobita points to the door and they make their way to the guard quarters.

Need to be more cautious, Y/N thinks. If she is acting in a way that allowed Shobita to pick up on something, then it’s only a matter of time before she lets her guard down in front of her handmaidens. Once they catch wind of anything, gossip spreads like wildfire and it is the last thing she wants. Y/N does not wish to lie to her best friend but this is not the first time she has kept troubling information to herself to not cause Shobita any distress. Did whatever that has happened between her and Harry warrant a conversation? A few shared kisses, hesitant touches, and whispered sweet nothings aren’t novelty for him.

“Your highnesses,” an echoed chant comes after the two princesses' arrivals are announced to the room.

“Let Mister Styles know that we are to depart to the markets in ten minutes,” Y/N commands.

“He is not here, ma’am,” the youngest guard pipes up from across the room.

“Where is he then?”

“We do not know.”

“You do not know?” Shobita repeats, shaking her head.

“I see him leaving the quarters every night, your highness,” another soldier says.

“We believe he makes his way to the, um-” the youngest guard stops abruptly and scratches his hair, and the men in the room share a look.

“Well spit it out,” Y/N says impatiently.

“We believe he is making his way around town to get with the courtesans,” he says quietly.

The handmaidens giggle behind the Princesses. One even whispers, “Of course he is off sampling Handuman’s offerings.” They are silenced by Y/N’s stare.

“Decorum,” Shobita reminds them.

“Soldier!” The Captain’s voice booms as he makes his way to the room. “You are not to use uncouth language in front of your royal highnesses!” He makes his way to the two women and bows. 

“Humble apologies, my liege,” the young soldier nods, before scurrying away.

The doors burst open and Harry saunters in and stops in his tracks at the scene in front of him. “Majesties,” he curtsies. 

“Ah, man of the hour,” Y/N scoffs. 

“I apologise for my absence, Princess. I was out running, um, errands.”

“We depart to the markets in five minutes, Mister Styles.”

“Princess, the Crown Prince has explicitly stated that I am not to permit excursions to places where security threats cannot be fully contained.”

“Did the Crown Prince also explicitly state that you are permitted to scurry around in the town brothels, Mister Styles?” She spits that question out with vehemence. 

“Your majesty-”

“I do not care. Make haste,” she turns without sparing a glance behind.

Harry catches the way the Captain throws him an arrogant smirk and he cannot help roll his eyes.  

“Best clean the stench of the whores from your flesh Styles,” he comments.

“You know why this is a bad idea, Captain,” he implores. The Handuman Prince was on a boar hunt  - a royal tradition to be carried out before a ball. The game is then roasted meticulously by the cooks and proudly presented as the standout meal. Harry personally thinks of it as an excuse for Prince Vinay to show off that he possesses the capable skills for a hunt, even if he has not participated in a single battle before. 

The Princesses were not extended an invitation to participate in the boar chase aligned with Handuman customs, it is the men who hunt for game, and even then the invite would be futile. Princess Y/N thinks of the act of hunting animals as an efficacious show of brute strength. 

Harry shivers remembering the time he had seen the aftermath of Prince Vinay’s inebriated blood lust at the Chera hunt two years ago. The Captain had been there with him as well. Prince Vinay had repeatedly missed his shot with the deer and the alcohol he consumed did not help with bettering his aim. The evening ended with two women killed: one strangled as Prince Vinay took her and the other with a sliced jaw to better accommodate his girth. He had remembered the look on the Captain’s face when he had returned from overseeing the cleanup of the mess that had befallen at the whorehouse that evening.

“The path to the castle is through those markets and the hunt might be done in a few hours,” he continues. “Prince Vikram would not take kindly if the Princesses crossed Prince Vinay’s path.”

“I will accompany you as well. No harm will befall the two,” the Captain assures him. “We will take every soldier we have.”

////

Harry could feel the buzz of fervour and anticipation as they made their way through the market. The air was laden with scents of fresh delicacies and ripe fruits. Stalls adorned with colourful tapestries were accompanied by merchants in simple tunics clamouring for Princesses’ attention. “Ripest pick from the garden, your highness!” Cried out a merchant brandishing a reddish brown fruit in the palm of his hand. Y/N stops in her tracks mesmerised, she had not seen a fruit like that back home. 

“What are they called?” She picks one up from the tall stack, marvelling at the fuzzy texture of the skin.

“Velvet apples, Princess,” he replies, quickly offering her a freshly cut piece. She bites into it hesitantly, taken aback by the hints of caramel that manages to escape through the tart and sweet taste. “Shobita, you must try this!”

“You must take one crate home,” the vendor insists.

“Captain, can you see to it that these crates get to our ship on our eve of return? I would also like a few saplings from his garden to take home.”

“I will see to it, ma’am.”

She produces two gold coins and presents them to the seller. 

“Thank you.” The vendor examines the gold, bowing for the graciousness bestowed upon him. 

Laughter of children carried over as they darted between people’s legs holding the colourful trinkets that were gifted by the royal visitors. Harry could finally begin to understand why Princess Y/N insisted on visiting town markets. The chatter of the throng idly walking by, the music floating from a group of sullen teenagers, the weathered face of an old woman holding all the secrets of herbs and potions in her cart, women floating from one stall to another in search of the freshest produce and game with a basket looped around their arm humming a melody, men busy haggling as coins clink busy sniffing out the best deal as they barter, all accompanied the warm gleam of the sun was picture perfect. The markets were the pulse point of the town to experience its river of humanity.

The sea of crowd parts for Y/N as she moves, while the onlookers let out several gasps in awe. He is unsure what garnered a gasp -  the dazzling display of ornate wealth or her countenance battling the radiance of a thousand suns. I bet it is the latter, he thinks. “Finest silks from the Orient!” A merchant calls out, the one from which Shobita purchased two spools of bright red weaves. Harry quickly glances towards Y/N, who was busy enjoying the puppet show with the rest of the townsfolk. He hangs back with two other guards, on the lookout for the arrival of the hunting crew, while the others surround the Princesses.

 “Would you like some sweets, Sir?” A small boy asks, pushing a rickety cart in front of him. “My mummy makes the sweetest treats in all of Handuman.” There were only a few on display.

“These sell out quickly?” He asks.

“Aye, they are gone by the time I get to the market,” he replies, casting a glance towards the direction of the Princess, the corners of his mouth pulling downwards.

“This upsets you lad?”

“I was hoping that Princess Y/N would get to taste one. That would make mummy merry but seven measly sweets is not enough of the Princess’s attention.” He sighs, turning the cart around to head back home.

He examines the colourful cylindrical wax wrappers and before he knows it, the words slip out of his mouth, “Can I tell you a secret?”

The boy nods. “I would not tell a soul.”

“The Princess enjoys a sweet treat. Loves them lots that she does not bear to share them,” he whispers.

“I do not wish to share my sweets too!” He exclaims. “But mummy says I must because it makes my sisters cry.”

Harry laughs, ruffling the boy’s hair. “How about I buy these sweets from you and make sure to hand deliver them to Princess Y/N and tell her about you and your mother?”

“You would?”

“Uh huh. I got into some trouble with the Princess this morning, I think your mummy’s sweets might get me out of hot water.”

He laughs as he makes quick work of wrapping the last of the sweets in a banana leaf as he hands it over. Harry pockets them and hands the boy ten silver coins. “The Pastillas only cost seven coppers.”

“These are for you and your mummy from Princess Y/N.”

“Thanks Mister!” The little boy gleams and treads back home.

////

Y/N’s eyes are closed, face tilted up, her lips pursed in a thin line, breathing in the flowery scent at the edge of the garden. During her daily evening walks on the grounds of Queen’s quarters, she stumbled upon a patch of wildflowers of bright pinks, oranges, reds, yellows and purples dotting the tall blades of green grass. It was behind the tall hedged maze - the only spot in the garden that had not been manicured to perfection - dwarfed by the expansiveness of the former. Even without tender affection from the gardeners, the soil rewarded the onlooker with stunning beauty. A quiet tranquil after the liveliness of the market and the tension that radiated from both the Captain and Harry. Y/N noticed their collective sigh as their shoulders slumped in relief the moment they stepped foot inside the castle.

The market had been a wonderful distraction from what she had learned this morning: Harry’s dalliances. She cannot believe that she had let her guard down around someone like Harry, someone widely known to be indecent. Had you not learnt from the stories handmaidens told about the men and women he had lain with? She chastised herself. She had despised him, the freedom he had to mindlessly pursue corporal pleasure, the swagger he carried himself with, the self assured confidence he had in his ability to charm anyone into bed, the way his lips curled up in an arrogant smile when he would catch her looking, and most of all, his utter disregard over others - always in pursuit of putting himself first. And you still fell into his trap, her jaw tightens, trying to keep the anger at bay. She parts her lips, breathing in through the nose, letting the buzz of insects take over the noise in her head.

“Can I have a word, Princess?” Harry's quiet voice breaks through the silence. He had just relieved the soldier on guard, taking his place a few feet behind her. 

Her eyes remain closed and Harry sighs, “Y/N.”

She stands still.

“This morning, I -”

“Mister Styles,” she responds with venom, “I do not want to be disturbed.”

“I know and I will leave you be after I-”

“Stop it,” she warns with a withering look. 

“Guards!” She yells, and three come hurrying towards them. “See to it that Mister Styles retires for the day. I am sure he would appreciate his sleep after a night of..,” she trails off as she looks back at him with contempt. “A night of exertion.”

“If you wish, your royal highness,” he mutters dejectedly, walking away.

Y/N sighs, watching his figure disappear into the castle. Idiot, her mind taunts, making her shake her head. She signs the guards to leave her alone as she bimbles around the grounds, kicking off her shoes wanting to feel the blades of dewy grass underneath her feet, the cleaners back home would not appreciate the grass stains on her silks and any other day she would have lifted the fabric up but she was not in a mood to be courteous. She isn’t sure how long she’s walked or if she was still in the compound of the gardens when she stumbles onto a pond and perches on a stone overlooking it, hand absentmindedly coming to play with her anklet. The water at the pond's edge is still, reflecting the powdery blue sky and the green of the trees. But the middle is dotted with broad, waxy leaves that float lazily, rising above the surface. The flowers stand tall - pinks, purples, and white - smooth and translucent in the sunlight. 

The light caresses the edges of the pearls, glinting golden. Some shy away from the warmth, curled tightly into a bud, needing a few more coaxes from the sun’s rays. It’s quiet, apart from the occasional splash and rustle from the fishes darting beneath the leaves, and the quiet hum of insects flitting about. She smiles at how the pond seems to be a quiet haven - ancient and ethereal - despite the busyness of housing its own micro ecosystem.

“Princess Y/N,” Princess Vinay calls out loudly. “I have been in search of you.”

“Prince Vinay,” she greets him from the bench. “I seem to have lost track of time marvelling at the beauty of these flowers.” She twists around to find the Handuman Prince making his way towards her still in his hunting attire. The buttons seem to be done up in the wrong manner, the leather vest pulled over haphazardly, and his shirt untucked bunched around his waistband.

“The beauty of this filthy marsh,” he laughs. “You jest, dear Princess.” He stumbles closer to her. “It is the night jasmine you must admire. They are only grown in palace grounds. Fit for us nobility.”

The scent of alcohol permeates off of him and she straightens as it hits her nostrils. “It is indeed a fragrant blossom but something about lotuses -”

“Princess. Princess,” he tuts. “These flowers even bloom in the town's sewage ditches,” he slurs. “Even the common folk do not covet them. A Chola Princess Royal such as you must distance yourself from this abominable excuse of a flower.” He sways and regains his balance by leaning against the tree trunk.

“How was your hunt?” She asks - heart rate rising - hoping to be rid of the Prince by letting him brag about his alleged kill.

“Splendid. I managed to capture the biggest boar of the season. I had slain it with this very blade,” he unsheaths his swords and presents it to her - tripping over his feet as he did.

She quickly takes it from him, careful to not make any contact with his hand, and makes a show of examining the weapon. 

“This blade has been with me for many hunting trips. It is a sign of true bravery,” he steps closer to her. 

“Indeed.” Y/N agrees, standing up from her seat, taking a step backward.

“What do you think, Princess Y/N? Have you witnessed what true bravery looks like?” He whispers, gaze trailing down her body.

“One can certainly deduce your strength and bravery from how clean and sharp the blade is,” she slowly starts moving away from him. “The blades my brothers bring back from their hunts are dull and soiled.” 

“My strength impresses you, Princess?” He reaches for her hand.

“It impresses your subjects,” she dodges his question, bringing her hands behind her back. “That is what matters.”

“It is a shame,” he slurs. “That you would rather eat like a rabbit tomorrow than feast on the game.”

“I should be heading inside, my Prince.” She says firmly, eyes darting around for signs of any guards and disappointment quickly floods her when she finds no one. Her heart picks up speed.

“Do you know where I have been?” He pushes himself from the trunk and stalks towards her. 

She shakes her head.

“Of course, it is not proper to tell such things to a lady,” he chuckles. “But I know how you women speak. I visit the brothels after a hunt. I find it to be the most rewarding conclusion.”

She stays quiet, stepping back.

“I wonder how Chola women are. I have yet to sample one of you.” He laughs. “Do you think I would be disappointed, Princess?”

“This is highly inappropriate. I will take my leave,” she answers, turning away but he’s quick to grip her wrist.

 “You Cholas,” he chuckles. “You think of yourselves as high and mighty but you should know that one of your guards has been frequenting the whorehouse. Every night from what I hear.”

“What my guards do outside of their working hours is not my business.” She tries to wiggle her hand free but it only makes him clamp down harder.

“I fucked five sluts bloody an hour ago, Princess Y/N. Do you want me to show you what I am capable of?” 

“Let me go, Vinay. I order-” He grips her jaw, silencing her.

“Silence,” he slurs, squeezing her cheeks harshly, forcing her lips apart. “Fuck,” he leans in sniffing her neck. “Fuck,” he groans. “Maybe I still have it in me to put the Chola Princess in her rightful place.” His free hand goes to undo his trousers, looking down to locate the drawstring. 

Y/N uses that to her advantage and sinks her teeth into his hand clamping down forcefully, making him yelp. She drives her knee up his crotch with her might. He falls to his knees, eyes bulging in pain. “You bitch,” he curses. 

She slaps him. “Shut up, you coward.”

Prince Vinay looks up at her, eyes watering, and he opens his mouth to say something but is quietened when he hears the Captain call out for her. “Here!" She yells out, and he rushes towards them with Harry hot on his heels. 

“I will see to it that my father punishes you,” he spits out, rocking back and forth cupping his groin in pain.

“Are you going to tell the King that his son - the brave and strong Prince Vinay who has allegedly slain several wild boars - was brought to his knees by a woman? Let’s see how your senate and court respect you then, you puny scum.

“Go ahead!” She taunts him. 

“Your highness, we have been in search of you as soon as we heard that the Prince had entered the compound-” the Captain stops, taking in the scene in front of him, lips curling up imperceptibly in a proud smirk. 

“Princess, are you hurt?” Harry asks, eyes filled with concern.

“I am unharmed, Mister Styles.”

“Was he untowards with you, Princess Y/N?” The Captain questions.

She shakes her head. “He did not get a chance to.”

“Harry and I will handle the situation. We best get you back to your chambers.”

She nods, before turning towards Vinay, “I do not want to see or have you breathe in my or my company’s direction for the next few days. You will come forward to announce a twenty percent tax cut for our cargo ships using your docks at the ball or I will see to it that your people see you for the miserable pathetic excuse of a man you are.

“You know how us women speak,” she smiles at him, echoing his words from earlier, turning around leaving the Prince of Handuman writhing in pain on the ground.

////

Thousands of candles light up the vast ballroom of the Handuman palace, flowers strung all around, Hanuman’s potent toddy - maireya - flowing generously into the guests' glasses, people whirling around to the quartet, but the most impressive of all was the giant boar placed at the King’s table that was roasted to perfection. 

Handuman customs were different from what Harry was used to from back home. They required the guards and staff to be dressed appropriately. Princess Shobitha had handed the guards their formal suits a few hours before, and had explained that Princess Y/N had the dressmakers specially make each of them to fit Handuman’s standards. The guards’ suits were simple - black with a leaping tiger embroidered in the lapels. The Captain’s suit was a light grey with the Chola crest on the lapels but it had small marigolds - his husband’s favourite flower - embroidered in a straight line, running down the length of his sleeves. Harry’s was a sage green suit with a silver green silk shirt with the house crest, with a sailors collar and braided white threads - similar to the knots he’d used to secure the masts - running up from his front pockets and around the cuffs of his sleeves. What caught his attention was a motif of a  black bunny painted on the white button of his trouser; it looked shabby, the lines were crooked - almost like one had done it hastily in a bobbing vessel. Did Y/N do this? His mind goes back to that night on the boat, his chest blooming remembering the way she’d sweetly smiled at him when he told her that he grew up thinking that the shadow on the moon came from the bunny who lived there. You need to set things straight with her.

Harry notices the way people gasp from amazement when Princess Y/N moves past them, hand in hand, with Princess Shobita. He is tailing the two of them with the Captain tonight. The Captain was busy watching Prince Vinay like a hawk, while the two women were busy conversing with the lord and lady of the southern Handuman province. They took care of the situation two days before, calling over to his guards and fabricating a story about how he had tumbled to the ground. It didn’t take much to convince them, so they both deduced that him passing out drunk was not an unusual occurrence. 

Her laughter tears his gaze back to her. He’s been doing that a lot since the start of the night. Looking at her. A compulsion to take her in every few minutes in an attempt to convince himself that she wasn’t an image his mind conjured from his dreams. Y/N stepped out of her chamber clad in a cream silk saree and a matching corset - shoulders bare, skin luminous, hair pinned up to bring attention to the choker gifted to her by the Handuman family - with the fabric pooling and falling deliciously against her curves. 

He has been vying for her attention throughout the evening but she seems content ignoring him, flitting from one person to the next, keeping herself occupied, she’d even asked to dance with the Captain - who’d indulged in her with laughter as they spun around for three songs - when she saw him approach her. He’s left with no option but to approach her this way, using Handuman’s traditions for his benefit.

“Princess Y/N,” he says, approaching from behind as she takes measured sips from the glass of toddy. He extends his hand towards her, palm inviting hers, “Can I have this dance?”

She quickly looks to Shobitha beside her and turns to face him. She knows that he knows that in Handuman a lady can’t refuse an offer to dance from a gent. She gives him a smile that’s reserved for the public - a polite one that does not let you in on her feelings. “You may, Mister Styles,” she quietly says, handing over her glass to her friend and placing her hand in his.

He squeezes it reassuringly, as he leads the two of them to the dancefloor. They bow as the music picks up. She places her left hand firmly on his shoulder blade and he holds the other outstretched. He begrudgingly leaves space between their bodies as he puts his hand on her shoulder blade. When they move, he’s surprised at how effortlessly she’s matching his footwork with his galumphing ones. He hasn’t danced the waltz in years - his father taught him because it was his mother’s favourite - and he never once thought it would ever come in handy. But she is forgiving when she glides with him, moving with him in a way that concealed his missteps.

“That must have been one hell of a kick to his balls,” he chuckles, trying to break the ice after a few minutes. “He’s hardly looked your way tonight.” Prince Vinay has kept away from them, moving the other way as the Princesses made their rounds, barely touching her hand when he’d handed over the quill when they signed the treaty, gaze trained away from them and now, busily ushering a young maiden out the ballroom. 

“Some people ought to be reminded what I’m capable of,” she replies icily, glaring at him. 

“I am well aware, Princess.”

“Why did you ask me to dance?”

“You were avoiding me, your highness,” he replies.

“And you still can’t seem to take the hint.”

“I want you to know what I was doing at the…,” he trails off.

“Brothels,” she finishes. ��Mister Styles, I don’t care for your explanations.”

“Even if that meant knowing why the Crown Prince sent me here.” He spins her around.

She laughs dryly. “I am sure my brother did not send you here to screw your way through the whorehouse. Even though that’s what the two of you do back home, isn’t it?” 

His cheeks tinge pink, heat rushing to the tips of his ears, and he clears his throat. “I did do that, yes. But I haven’t in several months, Princess. I swear. Not after…”

She looks up at him, his tousled hair dark under the candle light, shirt unbuttoned all the way down to reveal the ridges of his chest, eyes glimmering green as he holds her gaze. She noticed the way the ladies at court made moon eyes at him throughout the evening and as much as she tried distracting herself with pleasantries, their swooning bothered her.

“I don’t care much for your sweet talk, Mister Styles. You got what you wanted. You charmed a Princess into kissing you. Now you can move on. Another notch on your bedpost, right?” She says quietly. 

“Y/N,” he says firmly. “Stop that. I do not regard what transpired between us with such frivolity. Listen to me, please.” 

She stops as the song ends but he does not let go. He looks down at her earnestly and murmurs, “Please.”

“One more song, Harry,” she sighs, signalling to the quartet to continue.

“One of the men your brother managed to capture at the camps,” he looks around out of habit to see a few eyes on them. “Maybe we should talk about this more privately.”

“People are not going to suspect my guard to be divulging secrets in the middle of a dance with a ballroom full of people. Go ahead,” she prompts.

“They’re whispering amongst themselves,” he notes.

“Hold me closer,” she commands, and he does, bridging the distance between the two. “There. That’s enough gossip to hold them over until the song’s over.”

He smirks, stepping back into waltzing and she follows suit. “I was asked to go straight to camp  when I delivered your message to Prince Karthi in Lanka because of this prisoner.”

“What about him?”

“He had scars all over his body. When they had tortured him, they had found a branding on his shoulder. Two fishes,” he tells her quietly.

Her eyes widens and she falters to a stop, but Harry pulls her along, floating along the dancefloor. “How old was he, Harry?”

“Mid seventies.”

Y/N’s heart picks up speed. Branding, apart from livestock - was prohibited in the Kingdom but that particular branding was one given by her grandfather to traitors fifty years ago. Specifically to the traitors from the Pandiyan Kingdom. Hundreds of years ago the South was ruled peacefully by three kingdoms: the Cheras, the Cholas, and the Pandiyas. People were allowed to move freely between the borders, trade flourished, and the families remained friends until the Pandiyan King had struck a deal with the foreign clan and had murdered the Chera King. He had invited the Chera family under the pretence of a feast and had slaughtered the ruler and his heirs. It left the Kingdom in shambles with the aristocrats clamouring for power amongst themselves in the Chera Kingdom - unable to come to the aid of the Cholas when the Pandiyan King had attacked. Her grandfather had fought hard with his men for decades to restore peace to the realm. And during the decade long war, all the Pandiya royalty were slain and most of its people had become a victim to starvation because their King had funnelled all their resources into war. 

The people that remained had pledged loyalty to the Cholas, a few migrated to the North, and the Pandiyan empire crumbled. It had taken several years for grandfather and father to foster normalcy and growth in their kingdom - both old and newly acquired. Her father was crowned into an empire that was turning around from the ravages of war. 

“The traitors were all killed. Hundred and sixty three of them,” she remembers from the records.

“Spin,” he tells her, lifting their outstretched arm up and she twirls. When she faces him, there’s a furrow between her brows. 

“If he was killed, why are you here?” She asks, before resetting her face to look composed with a polite smile. 

“He’d mentioned something about an heir. ‘A child coming to claim his birthright,’ he said before Prince Vikarm had killed him.”

“Vikram’s such a hothead. You could not keep him around to ask him more questions?” She rolls her eyes. 

“I wasn’t around for his beheading,” he says dryly. 

“If there is a child that would mean…” She trails off, shivering at the images of civil unrest,  and the threat to their safety of their empire. Their succession.

“Prince Karthi stayed back at your castle to go through the bloodline records,” he tells her. It all makes sense for her, why her younger brother had uncharacteristically hung back in her castle - going against their fathers orders -  under the guise of seeing her off on this journey. “We also found a crumpled paper he tried to swallow. It was the coordinates to one of the brothels here in Handuman.

“That's why I’ve been going there all these nights,” he continues. “I wasn’t going for the solicitors, Y/N, I’ve been trying to follow the lead.”

“Do you think they are in on it?” She asks, looking over to Prince Vinay and his parents. 

“No, they are unaware. I’ve been trailing them too.”

She nods. “Very well. What did you find at the brothels?”

“Not much but the women talked about a man who’d come in once a while to collect coin from the keepers.”

“You think it’s the person that was caught?”

He shakes his head. “This was someone younger. His face is always covered, never talked but two women recalled seeing a tattoo on his wrist. Two fishes. That’s where my lead ends.”

“Thank you for telling me, Harry.”

“Don’t be angry at your brothers. They did not want to worry you until they’d found substantial evidence.” 

She arches her eyebrows in surprise. “How?”

“I think I know your expressions quite well, Princess,” he chuckles. 

“Oh, do you?” She smirks. 

“Yeah,” he says, as he dips her dramatically, before hoisting her up. 

“The music’s ending,” she notes. 

“I know,” he smiles wistfully. 

“You’re not terrible at waltz,” she jests, leaning against him as they sway. “Could use some practice with your feet though.”

He laughs. “Could use some practice with my lips too.”

“Harry Styles!” She lets out a giggle, before restraining herself, aware that everyone in the ballroom was now looking at them. 

“How about we give these people something to gossip about, Y/N?” He asks. 

He was right. People will talk. Sure she danced with the Captain and laughed throughout for three whole dances. But no one would care, given his avuncular disposition. She’s been intensely conversing with Harry for two songs. Surely there are a number of stories going around so far about whatever that was transpiring between them. She needed to give the audience something big that would pull their attention away from their conversation. So, she nods as the song ends and he lets go of her.  

He bows, sinking down on his knee, bringing her hand he was holding to his lips. “Princess Y/N,” he says loudly before pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. “It was an honour.”

////

It’s past midnight when Y/N manages to retire from the ball. The party had morphed into something more rambunctious after the Handuman King and Queen bid their farewell. Dances got more suggestive, music got more rowdy, and the younger members of the court surfeited on alcohol had started passing out a pungent herb to smoke. Despite the insistence of people, she managed to get away with Shobita stating they needed to catch up on rest before they set sail tomorrow. 

The heavy wooden door creaks as they swing open, revealing the soft twinkle of her candlelit chamber. She leans against the doors, locking it shut, and lets out a sigh. Her gaze sweeps around the room, taking in the way the flames flicker, casting long harsh shadows against the stone walls. The lingering scent of coral jasmine and rosewater fosters a sense of sanctuary within her. She is more than ready to wash away the hours of bearing royal duties and expectations off of her skin. Windows carrying a cool breeze from the dark of the night, makes the thick velvet tapestries billow, and that catches her attention. “You’ve got to step up your spy game, Mister Styles. My handmaidens shut the windows when I left the room,” she says. 

Harry steps out from behind the curtain, with a sheepish smile, eyes shining in the buttery glow of candlelight. 

“I can recall the dressmakers sewing buttons on your shirt,” she points out, pushing off the door as she saunters towards the dresser. Her eyes unashamedly rake over the exposed skin of his chest. She undoes the clasp of her choker and tosses it on the table.

“Did they?” He makes a show of feeling around for the buttons.

She rolls her eyes, taking off the pins on her head, and her hair cascades down her shoulder. 

“I think you left something on the dance floor, Princess.” He produces her anklet from the pocket of his trousers. Y/N lifts up her saree and looks down to see that her left leg is bereft of the gold rope. She had no doubt that she’d fiddled with it to a point where she’d loosened the clasps. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” she whispers, reaching out to take it from him.

“Allow me,” he says, quickly bending down. He looks up at her asking for permission and she nods. He carefully places her feet on his knee and fastens the gold chain, moving it around so the lotus motif faces him. His fingers linger and before he knows it he’s leaning down to press a kiss on her foot.

She gasps, hand going to steady herself on the table. “Harry,” she murmurs. 

“Been craving this since our first night on the ship,” he confesses, gazing up at her. He traces her soft skin with his lips, thumbs massaging the soles. Her anklet tinkles from her squirming but he continues to pepper kisses.

“It tickles,” she giggles, tugging her feet from his grasp.. 

He rises swiftly, hands coming to cup her cheeks. “Did you really believe anyone could hold a candle to you? All the men and women I have fucked never stood a chance.”

Her brows furrow in confusion, but he continues. “You’ve ruined me, Y/N.” The green of his irises disappears, replaced by a blooming lust. “I may be one with the shadows, surrounded by lies and deception but I only speak the truth when I am with you. You are all my mind can conjure in dreams. You are all I see in the poetry I read. Your smile, your eyes, your wit, your grace, your lips…” He trails off, bumping his lips on her cupid’s bow. “I swore an oath to protect your kingdom, I swore to my best friend - your brother - that I would protect you from threats during this voyage and a part of me intends to honour those promises until the end of time. But you’ve claimed a part of me, one that goes beyond loyalty. A part that a spy like me never intended to give away. And you have it - you haunt me. Ever since I first laid eyes on you.

“I swear, Princess, I did not seek solicitors. I went to the brothels as ‘the shadow,’ the spy of the Chola heirs. Not as Harry. The man whose life belongs to you.”

She sucks in a sharp breath. Not knowing what to say, she gets on her tiptoes, a hand weaving in his curls as she crashes her mouth to his. Harry responds with vigour, groaning as she glides her tongue against his. Chest heaving, fire stirring in their bellies, and the air around them crackle with electricity.

“Y/N. Wait,” he whispers, tearing himself away from her. He opens his eyes to find her looking up at him in confusion. “I want to savour this.” He steps away from her and his hungry eyes rake over the way the light bounces off her skin. He picks up a candelabra and places it on the wooden dresser. 

“Do you know how ravishing you look?” He mutters, pushing her hair behind her shoulders. 

“Are you going to draw this out, Harry?” She asks, chest heaving, eyes hooded with lust. “I am used to getting what I want, when I want.”

“You’ll get what you want,” he bends down and whispers, his lips moving against the shell of her ear. “Who am I to deny the Princess Royal?” 

He cups her face, thumbs stroking her heated cheeks, and he teasingly brushes his lips against hers. His hands move down, brushing the column of her throat, along her collarbone, and Y/N’s eyes flutter close feeling the zips of electricity under his touch. He removes the loose end of the saree that hangs over her shoulders, undoing the pleats tucked into her waistband delicately, and tugging the fabric so that it pooled at her feet. He takes in the sight in front of him: Y/N just in a pair of white panties and the silk corset that pushed her breasts up in a delicious way. She stood proudly in front of him, head held high, gaze piercing through. 

“You’re overdressed, Mister Styles,” she notes, kicking the fabric of her saree away, reaching to push his suit jacket off his shoulders. She tugs his shirt from his pants, nimble fingers quickly unbuttoning the one button he has secured at the end. She brushes her fingers over his chest, nails grazing his nipples that harden under the attention. “You have a fine body,” she comments, rocking up on her toes to press wet kisses down the side of her throat. “Must spend a lot of time on it.” She squeezes the firm muscles of his abdomen. 

He nods, unable to take his eyes away from the path her hand takes down his belly button, fingers dusting along his happy trail. She tugs on the button, smiling up at him. “I couldn’t resist,” she mumbles, finger tracing the outline of the bunny. 

He grabs her hands when she goes to unbutton his trousers. “I don’t think I would last if you keep smiling like that while pulling down my trousers,” he confesses. 

“We certainly wouldn’t want that now, do we, Harry? After all you’ve got to live up to the rumours, however exaggerated they may be,” she smirks.

He’s stunned. No once has someone held themselves as his equal while having sex. He’s used to people mooning over him, eyes cast down, eager to please, and here she was jesting, like it wasn’t her first time. “No exaggerations. It’s all true,” he says, affronted, making her giggle.

He shrugs his shirt off, arms circling her waist as he walks them back until Y/N bumps against the bed. “Can I take this off?” He asks and deftly unhooks her corset when he gets a nod. He sucks in a breath as it falls off, “Fuck me.”

Y/N reaches down and peels off her panties and beckons him close. He’s imagined the sight in front of him countless times, but nothing comes close to this sight of her. The wanton in her eyes, the swelling in her lips, the cascade of her long hair, the fullness of her breasts, the deliciously puckered nipples, the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the dip of her waist, the pudge below her bellybutton, the curve of her hips, the dusting of dark hair at her groin, the sporadic white stripes running down her thighs, and those damned anklets decorating her feet.

“You’re drooling, Mister Styles,” she chuckles.

It took an immense amount of restraint on his part to not feel her up when they’d kissed in the past. He tried hard to not let his hands wander away from her waist. He’s certain that restraint was something he can’t exercise anymore. “I don’t think there’s a word in any language that could convey the beauty in front of me. And even if there was one, I don’t think it will do you any justice. No dream of mine could compare to how breathtaking you are. Truly. You are beyond imagination, Princess.”

Her cheeks heat  but she does not have any time to respond because he’s busy capturing her lips, hands cupping her breasts. She hums relishing in the pleasure that seeps in her veins, spreading through the corner of her being. He kisses the top of her breasts, smiling at the way she shivers under his mouth. 

“So soft,” he groans, breathing in her scent, as he toys with her nipples. She’s eager, pushing her chest forward, hands finding purchase at the back of his head, guiding his head down. 

A low mewl escapes her mouth as his tongue leaves against her nub. His hands glide down to her bum and he squeezes it, teeth tugging her sensitive nipple. “Harry,” she moans, full of need and his determination to take it slowly crumbles. “Lay down,” he says, hurriedly. “I need to bury myself in your thighs. Please.”

Harry gets on his knees beside her on the mattress, leaning down to kiss her cheeks, breathing in her floral scent. He kisses her as he tenderly moves her hair away from her face. His hand travels down, and stops at the curls of hair at the junction of her thighs. “Can I touch you here?”

“Yes,” she replies, a furrow appearing between her brows. He smooths it away with his thumb. “Harry?”

“What is it?” He kisses the crescent birthmark by her chin.

“My handmaidens tell me that men do not enjoy pleasuring a woman with their mouth. You should not feel an obligation to do so because I am a Princess.”

He pecks the corner of her mouth. “My only obligation is to deliver on what I said that night in your tower.” Another peck on her cupid’s bow. “Make your body feel things that the Kamasutra failed to mention.” His fingers skate between her thighs, finding her damp, he moans.

“Fuck, Y/N. I really want to kiss you here.” His fingers brush against her folds and she gasps. “Will you let me?”

She parts herself and he settles between her legs, hitching her left thigh up to plant kisses on the inside. When he gets to top, he switches to her other thigh, trailing his tongue up biting down on a stretch mark. 

“Fuck,” she grunts, chest heaving in anticipation. He feels his trousers getting tighter but he brushes it away, laying down on the mattress and uses his thumb to part her folds.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, blowing on her heated flesh. He swoops in, burying himself in her, taking in her potent scent. He uses tongue to lick her from her opening to her clit, mewling at the taste.

“Ah, Harry,” she moans, fingers burying themselves in her hair, and he continues lapping her up, making lewd sounds as he continues. His tongue flicks the bundle of nerves that’s swollen and she cries out. 

He looks up at her to find her eyes scrunched shut, bottom lip trapped between her teeth, arching up from the sensation. “Do you feel it?” He asks, hands clamping down on her thighs.

She nods, opening her eyes to find him staring at her, with every flick of his tongue a zip of pleasure shoots up from her nub to her spine. The faster he does it the stronger she feels these bolts sizzling through her cells. He continues looking at her and he moans, “You taste heavenly, Princess.”

“More,” she demands, tugging on his curls. And he does, wrapping his lips around her clit, he suctions softly in quick successions and she shudders, back arching, thighs clamping down on his head. 

He suckles her through the orgasm, feeling chuffed to be the only one who's making her feel this way. He smirks when he hears the tinkle of her anklets as she’s riding it out. “There we go. One more, Y/N, give me one more.”

“Harry,” she squeals when his fingers replace his tongue, rubbing quick circles on the oversensitive bundle of nerves. He dips his tongue in her opening, teasing her. She tries to get up, gritting her teeth at the fire raging deep in her belly, and she balances herself on her elbows to get a look at him.

Her wild eyes take in the way his eyes are closed, as he hums to himself as he kisses her. It seems her handmaidens were wrong, Harry doesn’t seem like not enjoying himself. Her fingers curl around the sheets when he pinches her clit and she comes undone for the second time that night crying out his name.

“Fucking hell, that was-” he’s unable to find words. So he settles by peppering kisses to her centre, as she comes down, body relaxing into the mattress, gasping for air. He wipes her slick on her face using the back of his hand, before adjusting the tent in his trousers. 

“I want to help you with that,” she tells him.

He shuffles out of his trousers, and sits at the edge of the bed. Y/N follows suit, scooting beside him. He notices her staring at his cock, already beaded with precum from their actions before, and he twitches under her scrutiny. “What? My manhood’s got you speechless,” he laughs.

“I’ve never seen one before. Would you say you are an average representation of the male reproductive organ?”

“More than average I’d say.” He says, suddenly flustered. “Bigger than most, honestly.”

She cocks her head to her side. “That isn’t what I’m supposed to say is it?” She asks. “My handmaidens say I’m supposed to stroke a man’s ego and tell them that their manhood is impressive.”

“Princess, I do not give a fuck what your handmaidens say.”

“What would you like then, Harry? Can I touch you?”

“Please. Feels like I’m going to burst,” he whines.

Her touch is feathery, curious as she feels the velvety hardness of his throbbing member. “You feel heavy against my palm,” she notes. He lets out a shuddering breath. “You like that?”

“Yes.” He kisses her. “Spit in your hand,” he tells her. And she follows, wrapping her hands around - fingers barely enclosing him. She pumps him slowly. “Oh fuck yeah, just like that.”

A bead of cum blurts out, when she plays with the tip. “Y/N,” he moans. She leans forward, slipping her tongue into his mouth as she moves her hand faster, and he pants against her lips feeling himself climb. 

“How many nights have you dreamed of my hands wrapped around your cock, Harry?’ She whispers against the shell of his ear. 

“So many, Y/N,” he manages to get out before whimpering at the way she twists her hand around him. 

“Does this live up to your expectation?” She asks, mouth nipping the spot she’s found in his throat that makes him putty in her hands.

“Uh huh,” he says through gritted teeth, hands gripping the edge of the mattress, toes curling at the pleasure that bubbles at the base of his spine. Her mouth continues to suckle down his chest, tongue flicking his nipple like he did hers. 

He whimpers, “Kiss me, Y/N.” And she presses her lips to his in a scorching way, and he comes, hot thick ropes, spilling on his stomach and down her hand. 

He quickly reaches to the floor and wipes the remnants of his orgasm from her hand. “Why’d you do that?”

He looks up at her confused, “I thought yo-”

“I wanted to taste you like you did me,” she states, looking straight into his eyes.

“Fucking hell, Y/N,” he laughs. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he kisses her forehead, reaching between her thighs to wipe her clean.

She winces, hands clutching onto his arms at the over stimulation. “I know. Just a moment.” He tosses his shirt on the floor.

She leans against his chest, arms circling his neck and he wraps his arms around her, fingers playing with the bumps of her spine.. They stay quiet, relishing the cool wind against their sweaty skin, feeling their racing hearts calm down. He buries his nose in her hair, amazed that it smells like flowers too. 

“Are you okay? With everything that happened?” He asks, tucking her hair behind her ear.

She nods. “What about you?”

“I’m certain that this is a dream,” he sighs. “That we’re in court back home, and you are busy fucking me with your eyes- Ow!” He recoils, a sharp sting shooting against his love handles from her pinch.

“I did not fuck you with my eyes, Mister Styles.” She tells him firmly, but the heat blooming her cheeks tell him otherwise.

“What was the pinch for?”

“To prove that this isn’t a dream,” she laughs.

“I don’t think a Princess is supposed to go around pinching her spy. What would the Queen Mother say about your unbecoming behaviour, your highness?”

She frowns at the mention of her grandmother. The Queen Mother had always insisted that she uphold her duties to the people. ‘A Princess must always put the interests of the Crown before hers,’ she’d told her. Did you act in the interest of the Crown tonight? She knew how lucky she was to have the King let her act in her own free will. She knows the weight she carries on her shoulders to be worthy of her father’s decision. To prove the naysayers otherwise. She was the only Princess Royal in the history of the Chola kingdom to step into administration. She made decisions independently without needing approval from the King or the Princes. 

“Y/N,” his voice pulls her out of her reverie. He tilts her chin up. “Do not do that to yourself.” “Don’t let your duties stand in the way of the choices you make for yourself,” he says firmly. 

She nods, this was something someone like Harry would never understand. He would never understand that the sole purpose of a Princess was to expand the empire and forge allies through marriage. Never understand that the power she held at court was an anomaly, not an exception. That her parents and the elders trusted in her judgement to choose her spouse, without pressuring her.

“Oh I almost forgot,” he exclaims, grabbing his suit jacket. He fishes out colourful cylindrical wax papers from his inside pocket. “I got you sweets.”

“Sweets?” She takes one from him, unwrapping one.

“Yeah. Got them at the market. Figured I needed something to soften the blow. Get me out of the doghouse.” He pops one in his mouth. 

“You were going to bribe me with sweet treats?” She bites into the milky, peanut filled delight. 

“Figured it was worth a shot,” he shrugs.

She hums in delight as the sugary concoction melts in her mouth. “I think I’m going to have to be angry with you more often.”

He laughs, watching her unwrap her second candy.

 “I can try and bring more home,” he sighs. He can’t board the boat with her tomorrow. She knows that. He has a mission to complete. To figure out who that man was with the Pandiyan house tattoo on his wrist. To help her brothers and her piece together how that escaped traitor knew him. To uncover if there really was a surviving Pandiyan hair. 

He would have to play a role tomorrow, making up an excuse as to why he couldn’t join their party. Maybe he would be so drunk somewhere that he’d oversleep, missing the ship's departure. The many deceit and roles he took on as a spy. But that was tomorrow. His work could wait. For now, he was Harry. The man who had his arms wrapped around the woman of his dreams. He still had a few hours left with Y/N before he would have to slip away, leaving no trace of him behind. So, he focuses on unwrapping the candies he’d bought for the one he fancies, until the first light of dawn.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!

[curtwilde]

The oldest Sufi shrine in Delhi has been demolished.

"The earliest Sufi Shrine in Delhi - belonging to a relative of Prithviraj Chauhan and dating from BEFORE the Turkish conquest - has been Demolished by the Delhi Development Authority in an "anti encroachment" drive.

In the late 12th century, a group of Afghan pastoralists, suddenly burst onto the world stage. In a matter of years, they toppled their rulers of Ghazni and seized major Persian cities like Herat, and then established the major Indian sultanate in Delhi.

We often think of this "Islamic invasion" as the start of the Muslim presence in India. Yet recent scholarship has shown that by the time of Ghori's conquest of Delhi, Muslims were already a central part of Indian society

Some of the earliest mosques are found in Kerala, dating from a few decades after the prophet Muhammad's death. Tamil Pallava, Chola and Pandya kings all built sizeable mosques

Delhi also had a single sufi shrine before the Afghan conquest - this one.

Until 31 January, when it was demolished, the shrine of Baba Haji Rozbih had been located by the Fateh Burj, or Victory Gate of Lal Kot. The grave next to it under a reddish Chador belongs to his female disciple Bibi. Bibi was said to be a close relative of Prithviraj Chauhan who embraced Islam under the aegis of Haji Rozbih.

This demolition is an UTTERLY MINDLESS LOSS and complete cultural desecration.

What's more the "anti encroachment" drive is apparently scheduled to include the Aashiq Allah Dargah dated to 1317AD which is where the great Punjabi Saint Baba Farid used to meditate, and his small 'chillagah' is still visible here.

Please do share and write about this so we can save what remains! "

- from the historian Sam Dalrymple .

...

This is the third Islamic structure to be demolished in Delhi this month. Isn't it funny how only certain structures are the victim of anti- encroachment drives? This is part of a planned programme by the current right-wing government of India that is violently islamophobic and wants to create a hindu ethnostate modeled after Israel.

[pedripics]

is canarian spanish actually different to regular spanish?

not in the way that for example Catalan is, but there are some differences to Castilian Spanish

vocabulary:

They have words like fisco/ fisquito (= a small amount), chacho (= to express surprise; instead of for example 'tío'), guagua (= bus; instead of 'autobus'), papas (=potatos; instead of 'patatas'), cotufas/ roscas (= popcorn, instead of 'palomitas'), cholas (= flip flops, instead of 'chanclas'), manís (= peanut; instead of 'cacahuete'), queque (= cake, instead of 'tarta'/ 'bizcochón'/ 'bizcocho'), jugo (=juice, instead of 'zumo')

They use anglicisms such as 'naife' (= knife), 'quinegua' (word for a type potato coming from the shortened version of 'King Edward')

Here is a dictionary of canarismos

pronunciation:

The 'th' sound that is very common when pronouncing the letter 'c' or 'z' is pronounced like an 's' ('cenar' would be pronounced 'senar' instead of 'thenar')

The 's' is pronounced like an 'h' if it is a word ending or prior to a consonant ('las moscas' would be pronounced 'lah mohcah')

grammar:

They omit the word 'de' when used in phrases that describe possession ('casa pedri' instead of 'casa de pedri')

They often also use the preterite rather than the perfect tense ('hoy estudi' instead of 'hoy he estudiado')

They use 'ustedes' instead of ‘vosotros’ (except in La Gomera and La Palma, for some reason) and 'su/sus' instead of 'vuestro/vuestros'

Diminutives are usually shorter ('bailito' instead of 'bailecito' or 'pueblito' instead of 'pueblecito'

[whencyclopedia]

Chidambaram

Chidambaram (Cidambaram) is an important Chola temple site in Tamil Nadu, southern India. Most of the temples at Chidambaram were built in the 12th and 13th centuries CE. The site is dominated by the huge gateway tower of the Nataraja temple but Chidambaram also boasts the first Devi or Amman shrine, the first Surya shrine with the distinctive stone chariot wheels which would adorn many subsequent temples, and the first large Siva Ganga tank. In this respect Chidambaram is something of a transitional site, linking elements of the old and new styles of Indian temple architecture.

The name Chidambaram, one of several from antiquity, derives from the Tamil Cirrambalam, meaning 'little hall'. The site was chosen because according to mythology it was the precise spot where the Hindu god Shiva had once danced in a grove of tillai trees. The dance was, in fact, a competition between Shiva and Parvati and naturally the great Shiva won. The story became a popular subject in Hindu art over the centuries.

The site is enclosed within four perimeter walls and covers a rectangular area of 55 acres. Within the compound are shrines, halls, temples, ornamental gateways, and a large ritual bathing pool, known as a Siva Ganga tank, which is surrounded by cloisters. Inscriptions claim the site was built by various Pandya kings and local rulers but none are contemporary with the dates the buildings were actually first constructed. The walls and east gopura (gateway) may be ascribed with greater certainty, and were probably built by Kulottunga III, who reigned from 1178 to 1218 CE.

The Nataraja temple was constructed between c. 1175 and c. 1200 CE. The actual temple shrine is relatively modest as by now in Indian architecture the gopuras had become the most important structures, at least in terms of aesthetics. The twin sacred chamber was, however, adorned with copper sheets covered in gold by successive Chola kings. The shrine is preceded by a dance hall and large entrance porch with columns (mandapa).

The massive granite and brick east gopura dominates the site but there are three other gopuras on the north, south and west sides (the earliest). The corbelled roofs diminish as the structures rise and are finally topped with the usual barrel-vaulted roof (sala), the eastern gopura also having a row of 13 decorative finials. The east gopura has a proper interior floor at each of its nine levels and there is an interior staircase which climbs to the very top of the building. All four gopuras have false windows on their facades, typical for this kind of structure, and pairs of pilaster columns set at regular intervals. The second floor of each gopura also has a passageway which worshippers ritually walked around. The entrance archways all have coffered ceilings decorated with relief panels.

Of particular note at Chidambaram are the thousands of sculptures adorning its buildings. In particular there are many statues of women in a wide variety of dance postures. Many statues are accompanied by quotations from Hindu literature which provide an invaluable reference for scholars. There are also figures of the four dvarapalas (guardian demons), the dikpalas (cardinal directions), many figures of Shiva performing heroic deeds, various other deities such as Vishnu, Devi, Sarasvati, and, unusually in southern architecture, river goddesses.

Finally, Chidambaram is also famous for its 17th century CE Nayaka ceiling paintings which decorate the Shivakamasundari shrine of the Nataraja Temple. More than 40 panels depict scenes from the life of the saint Manikkavachakar, a devotee of Shiva.

Continue reading...

[nalyra-dreaming]

Is there any sort of supporting vampire index? I read the first five books back in high school and have been slowly making my way through the entire series (currently mid merrick) this year. But recently it feels like every other day someone brings up an important character from the later books that already appeared, or was implied in the show.

Nonny, you're in luck :)

Anne herself provides us with one in "Prince Lestat" and in "Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis" :) Obviously the short descriptions refer to the book versions. I would take note of Sevraine (who is Gabrielle's implied girlfriend later on!), Seth and especially Fareed, and definitely Rhoshamandes and Amel here. Gregory, too. And Viktor (whose summary does not contain the reveal btw) and Rose. These at the very least :) - let me know if you want to know more details!

I'll paste the character list from PLatRoA here! SPOILERS though - so under the cut!

Characters and Places in the Vampire Chronicles

Akasha—Queen of ancient Egypt six thousand years ago, and the first vampire ever created, through a merger with the spirit Amel. The story is told in The Vampire Lestat and in The Queen of the Damned.

Allesandra—A Merovingian princess, daughter of King Dagobert I, brought into the Blood in the seventh century by Rhoshamandes. First introduced in The Vampire Lestat as a mad nameless vampire living with the Children of Satan under Les Innocents Cemetery in Paris. She also appears in The Vampire Armand in the Renaissance where she is named, and later in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis.

Amel—A spirit who created the first vampire six thousand years ago by merging with the body of the Egyptian Queen Akasha. The story is told in The Vampire Lestat and in The Queen of the Damned. Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis continue the story of Amel.

Antoine—A French musician exiled from Paris to Louisiana and brought into the Blood by Lestat around the middle of the nineteenth century. Referred to as “the musician” in Interview with the Vampire. Later appears in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis. A talented violinist and pianist and composer.

Arion—A black vampire of ancient times introduced in Blackwood Farm. At least two thousand years old, perhaps older. Possibly from India.

Arjun—A prince of the Chola dynasty in India, brought into the Blood by Pandora around 1300. Appears in Blood and Gold and also in Pandora.

Armand—One of the pillars of the Vampire Chronicles. Armand is a Russian from Kiev, sold into slavery as a boy, and made a vampire in Renaissance Venice by the Vampire Marius. He is introduced in Interview with the Vampire, and appears in numerous novels in the Vampire Chronicles, telling his own story in The Vampire Armand. The founder of the coven at Trinity Gate in New York. Armand maintains a house in Paris in Saint-Germain-des- Prés, which functions as the Paris Court for Prince Lestat.

Avicus—An Egyptian vampire who first appears in Marius’s memoir, Blood and Gold. Appears again in Prince Lestat.

Benedict—A Christian monk of the seventh century in France, brought into the Blood by Rhoshamandes. Benedict is the vampire from whom the alchemist Magnus stole the Blood, a theft described in The Vampire Lestat. Appears in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis as Rhoshamandes’s companion and lover.

Benji Mahmoud—A twelve-year-old Palestinian Bedouin boy, brought into the Blood by Marius in 1997. Benji originates the vampire radio station heard round the world in Prince Lestat. Resides at Trinity Gate in New York and sometimes at the Court of Prince Lestat in France. First appears in The Vampire Armand when he is living in New York with his companion, Sybelle.

Bianca Solderini—Venetian courtesan brought into the Blood by Marius in Blood and Gold around 1498.

Château de Lioncourt—Lestat’s ancestral castle in the Massif Central in France, splendidly restored and the home of the new dazzling and glamorous Court of the Vampires with its orchestra, theater, and frequent formal balls. The adjacent village, including an inn and a church and several shops, has also been restored to house mortal workers and visitors to the Château.

Children of Satan—A network of medieval vampire covens, populated by vampires who sincerely believed they were children of the Devil, doomed to roam the world in rags, accursed, feeding on the blood of innocent humans to do the Devil’s will. Their most famous covens were in Rome and in Paris. The coven kidnapped many of the fledglings of Rhoshamandes until he finally left France to get away from them. And the Children of Satan in Rome spelled catastrophe for Marius and his great Venetian household in the Renaissance. Armand told of his experiences with the Children of Satan in The Vampire Armand.

Chrysanthe—A merchant’s widow from the Christian city of Hira, brought into the Blood by Nebamun, newly risen and named Gregory in the fourth century. Wife of Gregory. Introduced, along with Gregory, in Prince Lestat.

Cimetière des Innocents—An ancient cemetery in the city of Paris until it was destroyed near the end of the eighteenth century. Underneath this cemetery lived the Coven of the Children of Satan, presided over by Armand, which is described by Lestat in The Vampire Lestat. Referred to in the novels as “Les Innocents.”

Claudia—An orphan of five or six years old, brought into the Blood around 1794 by Lestat and Louis in New Orleans. Long dead. Her story is told in Interview with the Vampire. Later appears as a spirit in Merrick, though the appearance is suspect.

Cyril—An ancient Egyptian vampire, maker of Eudoxia in Blood and Gold, and named for the first time in Prince Lestat. Age unknown.

Daniel Molloy—The nameless “boy” interviewer in Interview with the Vampire. Brought into the Blood by Armand in The Queen of the Damned. Also appears in Blood and Gold living with Marius. Also in Prince Lestat.

David Talbot—Introduced as an elderly member of the Talamasca, an order of psychic detectives, in The Queen of the Damned. Becomes an important character in The Tale of the Body Thief, and also solicits Pandora’s story from her in Pandora. A pillar of the Vampire Chronicles.

Davis—A black dancer from Harlem, a member of the Fang Gang, brought into the Blood by Killer sometime in 1985. Introduced in The Queen of the Damned. Further described in Prince Lestat.

Eleni—A survivor of the Children of Satan who helps found the Théâtre des Vampires in Paris in the eighteenth century; corresponds with the Vampire Lestat after he leaves Paris to travel the world. A fledgling of Rhoshamandes made a vampire in the early Middle Ages.

Enkil—Ancient King of Egypt, husband of the great Queen Akasha, the second vampire to be brought into existence. His story is told in The Vampire Lestat and The Queen of the Damned.

Everard de Landen—A fledgling of Rhoshamandes from the early Middle Ages who first appears in Blood and Gold and is named in Prince Lestat.

Fareed—Anglo Indian by birth, a physician and researcher, brought into the Blood by Seth to be a healer and researcher of the vampires. A major character introduced in Prince Lestat.

Flannery Gilman—An American female medical doctor, biological mother of Viktor, and brought into the blood by Fareed and Seth. Part of their medical and research team working with the Undead.

Flavius—A Greek vampire, a slave purchased by Pandora in the city of Antioch and brought into the Blood by Pandora in the early centuries of the Common Era.

Gabrielle—Lestat’s mother, a noblewoman of breeding and education, brought into the Blood by her own son in 1780 in Paris. A wanderer who dresses in male attire. A familiar figure in the background throughout the Vampire Chronicles.

Gregory Duff Collingsworth—Known as Nebamun in ancient times, a lover of Queen Akasha and made a blood drinker by her to lead her Queens Blood troops against the First Brood. Known today as Gregory, owner of a powerful pharmaceutical empire in the modern world. Husband of Chrysanthe.

Gremt Stryker Knollys—A powerful and mysterious spirit who has created for himself over time a physical body that is a replica of a human body. Connected with the founding of the secret Order of the Talamasca. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Hesketh—A Germanic cunning woman, brought into the Blood by Teskhamen in the first century. Now a ghost who has managed to produce a physical body for herself. Also connected with the origins of the secret Order of the Talamasca. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Jesse Reeves—An American woman of the twentieth century, a blood descendant of the ancient Maharet and brought into the Blood by Maharet

herself in 1985 in The Queen of the Damned. Jesse was also a mortal member of the Talamasca and worked with David Talbot in the Order.

Khayman—An ancient Egyptian vampire, made by Queen Akasha, and rebelling against her with the First Brood. His story is told in The Queen of the Damned.

Killer—An American male vampire, founder of the Fang Gang in The Queen of the Damned. Of unknown history or origin.

Lestat de Lioncourt—The hero of the Vampire Chronicles, made a vampire by Magnus near the end of the eighteenth century, the maker of a number of vampires, including Gabrielle, his mother; Nicolas de Lenfent, his friend and lover; Louis, the narrator of Interview with the Vampire; and Claudia, the child vampire. Presently known as Prince Lestat by one and all.

Louis de Pointe du Lac—The vampire who started the Vampire Chronicles by telling his story to Daniel Molloy in Interview with the Vampire, an account of his own origins, which differs in some ways from Lestat’s own account in The Vampire Lestat. A French colonial plantation owner made a vampire by Lestat in 1791. Appears most prominently in the first Chronicle, and in Merrick, and in Prince Lestat and Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis.

Magnus—An elderly medieval alchemist who stole the Blood from a young vampire, Benedict, in France. The vampire who kidnapped and brought Lestat into the Blood in 1780. Now a ghost, sometimes appearing solid, and at other times as an illusion.

Maharet—One of the oldest vampires in the world, twin to Mekare. The twins are known for their red hair and their power as mortal witches. Made at the dawn of Vampire History, they are rebels leading the First Brood against Queen Akasha and her Queens Blood vampires. Maharet is beloved for her wisdom and for following all of her mortal descendants through the ages all over the world, whom she called the Great Family. Maharet tells her story—the story of the twins—in Queen of the Damned. She also figures in Blood and Gold and in Prince Lestat.

Marius—A pillar of the Vampire Chronicles. A Roman patrician who is kidnapped by the Druids and brought into the Blood by Teskhamen in the first century. Marius appears in The Vampire Lestat and numerous other books, including his own memoir, Blood and Gold. A vampire known for reason and gravitas. Much loved and admired by Lestat and others.

Mekare—Maharet’s twin sister, the powerful red-haired witch who communed with the invisible and potentially destructive spirit Amel, who later went into the body of Queen Akasha, creating the first vampire. The story of Mekare and Maharet is first told by Maharet in The Queen of the Damned. Mekare figures in Blood and Gold and in Prince Lestat.

Memnoch—A powerful spirit claiming to be the Judeo-Christian Satan. He tells his story to Lestat in Memnoch the Devil.

New Orleans—Figures prominently in the Vampire Chronicles as the home of Louis, Lestat, and Claudia for many years during the nineteenth century, at

which time they resided in a townhouse in the Rue Royale in the French Quarter. This house still exists and is in the possession of Lestat today, as it has always been. It was in New Orleans that Lestat encountered Louis and Claudia and made them vampires.

Notker the Wise—A monk and a musician and a composer brought into the Blood by Benedict around A.D. 880, maker of many boy-soprano vampires and other vampire musicians yet unnamed. Living in the Alps. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Raymond Gallant—A faithful mortal scholar of the Talamasca, a friend to the Vampire Marius, presumed dead in the sixteenth century. Appears again in Prince Lestat.

Rhoshamandes—A male from ancient Crete, brought into the Blood at the same time as the female Sevraine, about five thousand years ago. A powerful and reclusive vampire obsessed with operatic music and performances, and the lover of Benedict. Lives in his castle on the island of Saint Rayne in the Outer Hebrides, traveling the world from time to time to see different operas in the great opera houses.

Rose—An American girl, rescued as a small child by Lestat from an earthquake in the Mediterranean around 1995. His ward. Lover and later spouse of Viktor. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Saint Alcarius, Monastery of—The secret residence of Gremt, Teskhamen, and other supernatural elders of the Talamasca in France, near the Belgian border.

Saint Rayne— The island on which Rhoshamandes lives. Santino—An Italian vampire made during the time of the Black Death.

Longtime Roman coven master of the Children of Satan. Presumed dead.

Seth—The biological son of Queen Akasha, brought into the Blood by her after a youth of roaming the ancient world in search of knowledge in the healing arts. He is introduced in Prince Lestat and is the maker of Fareed and Flannery Gilman.

Sevraine—A remarkably beautiful Nordic female vampire, made by Nebamun (Gregory) against Akasha’s rules. Sevraine maintains her own underground court in the Cappadocian Mountains. A friend to female vampires. Introduced in Prince Lestat.

Sybelle—A young American pianist, beloved friend of Benji Mahmoud, and Armand, brought into the Blood by Marius in 1997. Introduced in The Vampire Armand.

The Talamasca—An ancient order of psychic detectives or researchers, dating back to the Dark Ages—an organization of mortal scholars who observe and record paranormal phenomena. Their origins are shrouded in mystery until they are revealed in Prince Lestat. They have Motherhouses in Amsterdam and outside of London, and retreat houses in many places, including Oak Haven in Louisiana. First introduced in The Queen of the Damned and

figuring in many Chronicles since. Vampires Jesse Reeves and David Talbot were mortal members of the Talamasca.

Teskhamen—Ancient Egyptian vampire, the maker of Marius as told by Marius in The Vampire Lestat. Presumed dead until modern times. Connected with the origins of the Talamasca. First named in Prince Lestat.

Théâtre des Vampires—A boulevard theater of the macabre, created by the refugees from the Children of Satan, funded by Lestat, and managed for decades by Armand, who had once been the coven master of the Children of Satan.

Thorne—A red-haired Viking vampire, made centuries ago in Europe by Maharet. Introduced in Blood and Gold.

Trinity Gate—A coven dwelling made up of three identical townhouses just off Fifth Avenue on the Upper East Side of New York. Armand is the founder of Trinity Gate. And it functions now as the American Court of Prince Lestat.

Viktor—An American boy, biological son of Dr. Flannery Gilman. His story is revealed in Prince Lestat. Lover and later spouse of Rose, Lestat’s ward.

[vishnavishivaa]

A Mother's Love

Thanjavur shone in the radiance of now being ruled by Raja Raja Cholan, born Arulmozhi Thevan, though he was most commonly referred to as Arulmozhi Varman and Ponniyin Selvan, to this day. It was the second year of his reign, and music flowed in delight at the gentleness yet ferocity of their King, who they crowned as the greatest of all time. Amidst them, a young teenager, who placed not just immense admiration but an unending pride on the current Chola Emperor, walked along the gardens. The blooming flowers soothed him nearly as much as his mother did.

Madhurantakan Vikraman, the heir of the Chola Kingdom, the eldest son of Raja Raja Cholan and his first wife, Udaiya Pirattiyar Vaanavan Maadeviyar, commonly known as Vaanathi, felt like he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had been raised from a young age by not just his Amma and Appa, but also by his Athai, his Periya Patti Sembiyan Maadevi, and his Chittis, as they entered his life. He was the closest to his father's second and third wives, Loka Maadevi and Panchavan Maadevi, after his mother. Vaanathi was Madhurantakan's solace, his calmness. His father often remarked that he was a lot like Arulmozhi himself when it came to Vaanathi, which made Madhurantakan beam with pride, every single time.

He sighed, touching the flowers lightly. His mother was doing a very tough vratam to pray for Chola Nadu, and his Chittis were aiding her, both following their own vratas for the same. Madhurantakan always felt that the spiritual growth his Amma, Chittis and Appa had shown aided in the unity of Chola Nadu, and he wanted to see devotion and spirituality grow.

A sudden inspiration struck him, and he turned, just as his eleven year old, almost twelve year old brother Araiyan ran up to him.

"Anna! Anna!"

"Calm down, Aru. What is it?" Madhurantakan asked, half curious, half worried. While he himself was a prankster, when Araiyan got something in his mind, the process ended up involving all the children and the results, scoldings from Vaanathi for all the children.

"Anna, Appa is with Amma and Chittis. They have some royal matters to discuss, and Appa asked me to spend time with you."

"And?"

"I have an idea!"

Madhurantakan shook his head fondly, eyeing his hyper brother. He should have known, but he was also looking forward to this. Pranks with Araiyan always allowed him to feel better and pulled him away from his overthinking spiral.

"Tell me about it, as we go and recruit Mathi."

Madhurantakan winced as he met his mother's stern eyes, and he pouted, knowing he looked exactly like his father when he did that. Kundavai and Arulmozhi seemed to smirk at each other, both knowing what Madhurantakan was doing. Vaanathi, however, was not fooled, for her eyes narrowed, and it was only Danti Sakti's (Loka Maadevi's) gentle touch that stopped the former from bursting into an angry rant.

Vaanathi took a deep breath, and sweetly began to question the children, and the troop of siblings and cousins exchanged looks. They were all going to get it from Vaanathi then, and they knew it.

Madhurantakan had to smile though. His mother's scoldings felt like delight to him.

****

"Vaanathi?"

Vaanathi looked up from her documents to meet her husband's eyes. She placed them down, standing up to open her arms for him, laughing when he sunk into them immediately. They somehow fit, despite Vaanathi being much smaller than her way too tall, well built due to practice and war husband. She giggled softly when he pecked her neck, his strong arms cradling her form against his own. He snuggled into her, before taking her to their bed to hug her more.

"What is wrong, my Lord?" she ran her fingers through his hair, and he sighed, huffing a soft laugh.

"How do you always know, my love?"

"I just know you, husband. Tell me, what is the matter?" she left a soothing kiss on his forehead, smiling when she felt his muscles relax.

"I am worried about Madhu."

Vaanathi sighed. She too was worried about their elder son. He walked around like he held the world on his shoulders, and Araiyan had come to her with his worries about his elder brother as well. She looked at her husband and said, "He is much like you, Swami. You were so when you were nineteen, were you not?"

"I never wanted my children to feel this way, Vaanathi. Not any of them," the Emperor confessed, anguish crossing his face. "Did you talk to Sakti and Azhagi about this?"

"I did, Swami. And they too noticed Madhu's change in behaviour. Sakti, of course, is of the opinion that an adventure will help, for her spirit, yours and Azhagi's are more for open freedom, than taking what we have and using it as freedom."

"That is why we three have you and Akka," he said fondly. "You and Akka ground Sakti, Azhagi and myself, and you know it."

"Yes we do," Vaanathi said. "But Madhu, my love, Madhu might be a lot like you, but he is like me even more in this. The only difference is, being young, he does not know how to make use of what he has and make that itself freedom."

"He needs you to teach him, Vaanathi. It took me some time to learn from you. Marrying you taught me how to work within the constraints of the heavy expectations and still feel free."

"Freedom is made within first, before we pursue it in external situations. I will talk to Madhu, Swami, you rest assured."

"I trust you, my love. I trust you."

****

Vaanathi got the opportunity to talk to Madhurantakan properly two days later. She watched her eldest quietly, as he plopped himself near her feet, laying his head on her lap. She could feel the weight on his still young shoulders, and the burden of being the heir, of being raised the heir. There had always been a tug of war among most of the family on how Madhurantakan should be, till Vaanathi had put her foot down, and Arulmozhi, now Raja Raja Cholan, as well as Kundavai, had supported her.

"Madhu," she said softly, carding her fingers through his hair.

"Amma?" he seemed to curl in, allowing her soothing touch to balance him, an action Vaanathi knew all too well.

"Do you want to hear a story about your Appa?"

"About Appa?" Madhurantakan looked at her, his chin on her lap, and she nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his curls, so much like Arulmozhi himself.

"Yes. When expectations become too heavy, we feel very burdened by them. We want an escape, we want freedom. Even your Appa, who is so conscientious of his duty, was like that."

Madhurantakan's eyes lit up, and Vaanathi sighed. Seemed like the son was as much his father as he was Vaanathi herself. She knew she had to explain the truth of life so that Madhurantakan could make a decision that he felt was right for himself. She never wanted to stifle him, but she did want him to learn of his options.

"When Selvar felt so," Selvar was a nickname retained from the pre-marriage days, one she still called Arulmozhi, "he found Samudrakumari, your Patti Poonkuzhali. He thought that he wanted to marry her because he wanted the freedom she represented."

"He wanted to.. WHAT?" Madhurantakan had grown up seeing his father's romantic nature with his mother being a steady presence. He could not envision this situation at all. His father was still in love with his mother, despite his respect and care and even love for his other wives.

"I was hurt too, but I understood his reasons once I realized what he really wanted," Vaanathi told her son gently, raking her fingers through his hair. "We did have a rough time in between, but we sorted it out ultimately."

For a moment, Vaanathi was lost in her younger self and the pain, the loss of self worth, and the painstaking realization that the love of her life doubted her. But they had slowly patched it up, bit by bit, creating a secure, understanding environment filled with openness between them. She turned to her son, whose eyes were bright, a mixture of hers and his father's.

"Madhu, there are three types of people in the world: those who live their lives in freedom without realizing the things they are missing, those who want freedom but stay back with their responsibilities, and those who take what they have and create freedom for themselves. Your Appa is the second type, as are Sakti and Azhagi. Their duties and responsibilities come first, and thus, their freedom takes a different manifestation in their dreams for our Kingdom. To ground them, Akka and I are there. Madhu, it is up to you to decide who you want to be among these three types."

"Amma, what about you? What type are you?" Madhu asked, though his eyes said he knew. Vaanathi tapped his forehead, as if to say that she wanted to hear this from him.

"You make freedom with what you already have," Madhurantakan said, looking at her with awe. "That is why you are so grounded, why Appa and both Sakti Chitti and Azhagi Chitti turn to you, not just for advice, but also for comfort, for peace. Amma, you bring peace to our family, to our Kingdom."

"Madhu, how can one person do all that? Everyone plays their role in the peace," she kissed his forehead gently. She laughed softly when her son cuddled into her, his affections open with her, even during formal events, much like Arulmozhi with his own mother. After some time in the cuddle, Madhurantakan spoke again.

"Amma, teach me how to take what I have and find freedom in it, please?"

Vaanathi smiled, knowing that she had understood her son right. She knew he would ask for this, and he did. She nodded, hugging him gently, before settling down to share words of advice and her perspective. Later, she would ask him to go to Kundavai, who had taught both Vanathi and Arulmozhi, and who played a big role in raising all the children of the family, whose perseverance, steadiness combined with firmness and care had given the children more freedom than they knew. 

********

@ahamasmiyodhah @thegleamingmoon @yehsahihai @mahaswrites @hum-suffer @theramblergal @moon-880 @arachneofthoughts @whippersnappersbookworm @rang-lo @celestesinsight @willkatfanfromasia @mahi-wayy @ragkee @houseofbreadpakoda @sambaridli @nidhi-writes @hollogramhallucination @writersiya @chaliyaaa @bluedestinyruins @leoprincess21 @ambidextrousarcher @nushkiespeaks Let me know what you all think! This OS was inspired.

[aranyaani]

it's so insane that so many of these people have no idea what the Cholas did. What any of the ancient Indian kings did!

1000 years ago Cholas were one of the first in the world to have a naval army. they knew the Indian Ocean like the back of their hands. All Indian kings did! Just look at how many ports we had!

also Andaman is from where Rajendra Chola launched his Sri Vijaya campaign to capture Malaysia and the nearby islands. He and his predecessors surveyed the islands first

[dosai-maavu]

Two Full Moons

I recently rewatched both of the PS movies and I gotta say, the dialogues are just INCREDIBLE.

i don't know if anyone else has noticed it, but there's such a clever play on words when Nandini and Kundavai have their exchange when Kundavai enters the Thanjavur Fortress.

The conversation goes: Nandini: Welcome Princess, your arrival has beautified the whole of Thanjai's fortress.

Kundavai: I've heard that you have collected and kept all of the beauty in the fortress.

When you watch it for the first time, it looks like it's just clever conversation between two smart and sharp women. But wait. Who in the story is described as being so beautiful, that their NAME was altered to celebrate it? Kundavai's father, Sundara Chozhar. Kundavai and Nandini are indirectly talking about how HER father, the King of the Chola Empire, has basically been imprisoned in the fortress.

The conversation continues,

Nandini: Yes, beauty is kept captive here.

Kundavai: Captive? I thought it was seated on a Golden Throne.

Nandini: Yes, but it is old gold.

Kundavai: The older the gold, the more respected.

Nandini: Even if it is made of gold, shackles are shackles.

Kundavai: The key to those shackles are in my hands.

Nandini is taunting Kundavai here, talking about how her father is old and cannot do anything to resist becoming a puppet of the Pazhuvettarayars. He has no freedom. It doesn't matter that he's a King with a luxurious palace and everything he needs a beck and call away, he's still under the thumbs of the Pazhuvettarayars.

Kundavai has a befitting reply of course. It doesn't matter that her father is basically under house arrest. She, Kundavai, being a Princess of the land has much more power than the Pazhuverttarayar brothers. She has the power to release her father from their control. She still has more power than Nandini.

It's such a clever way to show how Nandini and Kundavai hate each other, to the very core. It looks like a fun, teasing conversation but in reality, both insulting each other in the worst way possible.

[balladedutempsjadis]

Ponniyin Selvan (The Book vs. Movie edition)

I've just today finished the five volumes of Kalki Krishnamurthy's epic historical novel Ponniyin Selvan, which was the basis for the two-movie series of the same name which I ADORED after I watched the first movie for the first time a couple of weeks ago. And ... I have some thoughts on the books and on the adaptation of the books. First of all, some general thoughts about the books:

I really wish I could read this in the original Tamil. In my understanding, these books are a beloved modern classic of Tamil literature, and the English translation, though perfectly fine and serviceable in terms of explicating the plot, rarely has memorable language.

Perhaps this is a function of the translation, or a different literary tradition, or the author's style (and I'll never really know which), but there is a lot of stuff that I can best describe as static. Actions and events are often described after they occur so as a reader, I felt distanced from what was going on in several scenes.

There are a LOT of coincidences (the entire Sembian Amuthan plotline is heavily based on coincidences) and repetition.

Even if I didn't know this was serialized, I would have guessed because of the repetition mentioned above, frequent flashbacks, and the padding out of some of the scenes. This isn't necessarily a bad thing (it reminds me of Dickens' novels, which I happen to be quite fond of) but it's definitely a hallmark of the novels.

I felt sometimes that Kalki was having a bit of a struggle with the historical characters having to do what they did in history versus his fictional characters like Nandini being able to do what they wanted. So sometimes I felt the characterizations were a bit lacking (and I definitely skipped some of Sembian Mahadevi's musings, SORRY!)

Now for the differences between the books and film versions (SPOILERS FOR THE BOOKS AND BOTH FILMS BELOW).

In general, with one exception I'll talk about later, I think the scriptwriters did an amazing job of adapting this immense series to film. In fact, for a number of things, I think they improved the pacing of the narrative and cut out extraneous stuff that detracted from the momentum of the main story - these were things that may have worked in a serialized novel but would have drowned even a gigantic six hour film series. All that follows is just my opinion, of course!

First of all, a fair number of characters were just cut out of the story, which I thought tightened up the narrative. (For example, Manimeghalai was completely unnecessary IMO for the story to proceed and she really detracted from the scene between Aditha Karikalan and Nandini when Karikalan dies; the intensity of that scene would have suffered from having anyone else observe it.) Poonghuzhali's brother and father (her sister-in-law Rakkamal is still there but not related) are gone in the film version. And that's all fine, I think it would have made things more confusing and I don't even think a tv series would have been able to use ALL these characters. (Also, I think I like that Poonghzhali seems more stable in the movie.)

I also liked that they cut out the astrologer. I thought the book relied way too heavily on the astrologer's predictions and while that may have been an accurate portrayal of 10th century Chola society, it also removed the jeopardy from the characters. If Arulmozhi Varman's sister would be confident that nothing terrible could happen to him because of the lines on his palm, then it was really hard to generate suspense about him within the story. (I mean obviously as readers/moviegoers we might know that he became Rajaraja Chola and therefore survived the assassination attempts, but his contemporaries and the fictional characters in-universe didn't know that he would end up being a great king.)

For me, it was more powerful to see how much the kingdom mourned him and his family mourned him than to have his sister shrug and be like "oh well, the stars don't say he dies so he's probably alive." And the way that they mourned him also helped develop their characters (To be fair, I also can't figure out what Kalki believed re:astrology either, because occasionally the author's voice is very skeptical about the astrologer as well.)

More controversially, I think they were right to cut out the whole Senthan Amuthan storyline about being the real son of Sembian Mahadevi and the previous king etc. etc. The hidden identity heir business was just way too melodramatic for me even in the book, and I don't think it would have worked at all for me in the movies. I mean, SA doesn't really even have much characterization in the book anyway (he's there a lot and helps out when he can but other than the fact that he loves Poonguzhali and has a nice voice, I couldn't tell you much about him.) Plus that would necessitate that Fake!Madhurantaka be Nandini's twin etc. and that would also have not been believable.

Now ... onto the main characters books vs. movie:

Aditha Karikalan: I honestly liked him much more in the movies than in the books. He was the tragic hero of the movie, with a clear arc, and Vikram brought oodles of charisma to his role. But in the books, he was a lot more opaque to me (his love for Nandini is not his focus - so he maybe falls in love with Manimegalai? - and that moment where he chooses to die isn't as crystal clear.) Also, Book!Aditha is a bit of an asshole towards all of his friends, frankly, which movie Aditha is not.

His chief faults in the movie are that he's ruled by his emotions (which is both why he sins against Nandini by beheading an unarmed man - Veera Pandyan - in a fit of rage that Nandini is pleading for his life AND why he tries to atone for that sin by committing suicide, which of course doesn't actually solve anything and in fact embroils innocent people like Vandiyathevan in a horrible situation).I still think he wouldn't have made a good king, not least because he would not listen to ANYONE'S advice, whether that someone was his grandfather, his friend, or his brother or his sister.

Book!Aditha might have made a better King - he actually goes to Kadambur not just to see Nandini, but partly in order to find out and allay the different Chola clans and possibly cement one of their loyalties by marriage to MM, so I thought that made for an interesting contrast. Even in the books, though, Kalki compares how the people mourned Aditha (as a great warrior whose absence threatened their kingdom's survival) and how they mourned Arulmozhi when he was believed to be dead (as a beloved son/brother even if they didn't know him personally.) The book (and movie though to a lesser degree because it's so preoccupied with Nandini/Aditha) has a lot to say about power and responsibility (so there are constant contrasts between not just Aditha and Arulmozhi but between the Pazhuvettarayar brothers and Arulmozhi - for example, over whether the Chola kingdom should supply the army in Elangai or whether they should live off the land. AMV is much more farsighted and knows how important it is to not make a conquered populace feel subjugated because they will rebel.)

Nandini: I feel like she was a lot more fleshed out in the film than Book!Nandini, and as she and Aditha were the emotional focal point of the movies, it makes more sense. Her motivations seemed clearer to me, and I also appreciated that we actually found out what happened to her, and she didn't just disappear off the page. I also liked, as mentioned above, that they didn't bother with the False!Madhuranthakan who was actually Nandini's twin etc. I liked that they fleshed out the love story between her and Aditha and gave Kundavai a role and also showed how it was Aditha's impulsive declaration that she would be THE Chola Queen that directly led to Nandini - who had done nothing wrong - being unceremoniously bundled off to wherever. (Would I also have liked a little more of how Aditha reacted to his family's banishment of Nandini? I think I would. Like we got a little bit of that in PS1 when he blames Kundavai for being jealous but not much more than that?)

Kundavai was very awesome in both book and film, but she had a lot less to do in the second movie. As I mentioned above, I loved that she actually believed her beloved younger brother to be dead so we got to see her reaction compared to Aditha's. (Aditha basically goes into beast mode and is like “I can fight whoever to avenge my little brother” and Kundavai is, as usual, a lot more rational even in the depths of grief.) I also really liked that brief scene the film gave us with all three siblings together which was a nice addition to the story. I felt there were not very many differences between Book! and Movie!Kundavai - although the book definitely played up her influence over her younger brother a bit more. She is the mirror to Nandini and maybe Nandini would have been like Kundavai if she had not had such struggles in her early life? I do like that in both books and movie, the female characters are so strong (I mean, well-characterized) and different from one another.

Vandiyadevan is just a great character! His resemblance to D'Artagnan was even stronger in the books (he had time for even more adventures) and his verbal sparring with Nambi was great and nicely translated to screen, I thought. I did think his presence in Kadambur and his (partial) witnessing of Aditha's death and aftermath was handled with more pace and worked better for me in the film (again, no Manimegalai was a great decision. And the picnic that Nandini goes on with Aditha and Vandiyadevan and MM and others (I think?) It was late at night when I was reading and I was like WTF so I might be misremembering it) dilutes the Aditha/Nandini meeting a lot. Anyway, back to Vandiyadevan - still sooooo charming. I loved Karthi in this role and am going to watch Kaatru Velliyadai (although I understand he's very different in that one!) sometime this week. But I found Book!Vandiyadevan lovely as well. I think his character translated perfectly from book to screen.

Arulmozhi Varman - I thought the books would focus more on him than they did, given that he's the title character. And I was a little surprised that he still wasn't the main focus of the books (though there's more focus on him in the later volumes), but there were some nice little character moments that I wish could have come into the movie. (Though there were a couple of things in the movie that I also really liked which showed his character beautifully.)

I read Kalki's afterword about how the pivotal scene in all of the books is Arulmozhi Varman's sacrifice of his crown, because that is an amazing thing for any ruler to do, to voluntarily give up his own power and step back. The books talk about the Chola ancestor Sibi, who was willing to give up his own life to protect a pigeon from an eagle because the pigeon was under his protection. I believe we are meant to understand Arulmozhi's sacrifice in a similar light. He is all about protecting the realm, even if it means sacrificing his own ambitions and that makes him Sibi's worthy heir. (In the Mahabharata, Arjuna is the peerless warrior prince, but his brother Yudhishtira is the Dharmaraja - the best of all; and I think we are meant to see echoes of Arjuna (and his son Abhimanyu, alone in the midst of his enemies) in Aditha and echoes of Yudhishtira in Arulmozhi.)

The books and the movie handle this immense sacrifice a little differently; in the book, we get a lot more motivation for that action: AMV is steeped in the history of the Singhalese kingdom and horrified by how bloody their succession battles were (he references fathers killing sons and vice versa more than once) and he is super clear that he doesn't want to bring that mess to the Chola kingdom or cause a civil war or anything like that. But there are two more elements as well, that I mostly got from the book: he truly loves Vanathi and she has sworn an oath that she doesn't want to be empress, so he can't have both Vanathi and the throne (but it's also a political decision, since if he's King, and marries Vanathi, then he'll be seen as privileging her clan above all others unless he marries a bunch of other girls as well). I also genuinely think he also wants to go hang out with Vandiyadevan and have adventures (while also doing the necessary jobs of fighting pirates and expanding trade and all that other stuff.)

The movies don't make that explanation as explicit, but there is this golden thread of self-sacrifice that runs through Arulmozhi's scenes in the movies as well: first of all, he refuses to take the throne of Elangai, though it is offered to him by the monks who crowned all the kings of the island. (This happens in both the books and the movie, but the books make this a more political decision - AMV says Elangai is too small for the scope of his vision, and that he doesn't want it to look like he's setting up a parallel second kingdom to the Cholas in opposition to his brother - whereas in the movies, it is clearly a matter of dharma. And the movie really sells that.)

Then Arulmozhi jumps into a stormy sea to swim to a ship full of people who want to kill him, in order to save Vandiyadevan. (I mean also some breathtaking confidence in himself that he and Vandiyadevan by themselves can defeat the Pandya rebels. He definitely does not lack for confidence :)) I cannot believe I actually forgot about this and had to come back and edit this post.I guess I am too used for Arulmozhi being awesome for this even to register on the scale?

The third self-sacrifice is when Arulmozhi is recovering from his life-threatening fever amidst the Buddhist monks at Nagapattinam. In the movie, somehow the Pandya assassins find out he's there and rile up the crowd which threatens to destroy the monastery which they claim is hiding their beloved prince from them. Although AMV is encouraged to slip away to escape the Pandya assassins, he refuses to repay his hosts by allowing their monastery to be destroyed. So he goes out to face the crowd, despite knowing that he's putting his life in danger by doing this. In the movie, he makes a choice to reveal himself and once again we see that Arulmozhi will always privilege the good of the people under his protection (the people of Elangai, Vandiyadevan, the monks, and ultimately the whole populace of the Chola Kingdom) over his own desires, and even his own life if need be. Over and over again, he shows himself to be the true heir of Sibi. (I also thought the elephant-goad plot was REALLY well done in the movie; even knowing obviously that AMV survived this, I was SO tense during that entire sequence. The book version just wasn’t as tense. Anyway …) So in the movie we keep seeing WHY Arulmozhi will be the great king he becomes but also why he will not take the crown at the end - and by not taking it, he makes himself all the more worthy of it.

In the book, in contrast, he leaves the monastery because there's about to be a devastating cyclone and it's not safe there any more. His disguise is revealed against his will by Rakammal hailing him as the prince; he's not given any choice in the matter. And he has very good and valid reasons for not wanting to reveal who he is which are also an excellent lead-up to his giving up the throne. Book!Arulmozhi wants to avoid a civil war over the succession at all possible costs. And he knows the public is fickle and easily swayed (there’s a whole subplot about there are rumors that HE had Vandiyadevan kill Aditha Karikalan so he - AMV - could be crowned, which only one character says in the film and everyone ELSE is like “Arulmozhi would NEVER!” But in the books more people seem like they are could be swayed by that thought - and giving up the throne to his father’s cousin is one spectacular way to give the lie to those rumors. And here’s also me, getting so angry on behalf of a fictional /historical character ;))

I think the movie version and the book version of this event both work really well for their respective media in terms of establishing who this man is, and what his character is, which lead up to his ultimate sacrifice.

The last sacrifice is, of course, that he give up the kingdom that *everyone* wants him to have. I think in both the books and the films, it's clear that the weird succession situation from his great-uncle Gandaraditha's day (where the throne when to the younger brothers of the king, and then to Sundara Chola - AMV's father - Gandarathia's nephew - rather than to Gandaraditha's own son) was bound to create a locus for discontent and coups egged on by the enemies of the Chola Kingdom. And that internecine strife is, from Kundavai's and AMV's perspective, what killed their brother and even put AMV in line to the throne at all. (They don't know all the backstory about Nandini and Aditha's guilt and his essential suicide. Also, I think it’s an interesting contrast between Aditha Karikalan who offers to give up the throne - once to the council of plotters where he says he’d do it if he had an army to go get himself another kingdom, and once when he proposes to Nandini that they just run off together. Arulmozhi had his chance at a kingdom won by force of arms - Elangai - and said no, and when he gives up the throne at the end of the books/movies it’s for love of the country he was expected to rule, not for love of an individual.)

The one thing I wish the movies had done was flesh out the Kundavai/Vandiyadevan and Vanathi/Arulmozhi connections. The actors did a lovely job with what they were given just from facial expressions and eyes (Vandiyadevan looks hopeless in love in the course of a single conversation when he's dressed as Krishna's uncle) and I bought into Vanathi and Arulmozhi's love for each other with nothing more than him reading her message in PS1 and a couple of times they looked at each other (so much love for Jayam Ravi and Shobita Dhulipala's facial expressions which sold the connection), but IT WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE FOR BOTH THESE COUPLES TO HAVE A CONVERSATION! But I realize I've seen a couple of Mani Ratnam's Hindi films (Dil Se, and Raavan - though I really want to watch the Tamil version of that) and he does doomed romance very adroitly. (Although from reading the plots of his several other films, apparently he also does do happy endings sometimes and I sort of wish we could have shifted the focus from Nandini/Aditha A LITTLE BIT to maybe just get a tiny conversation between these two other couples the I also loved. But at least I got some crumbs in terms of the full videos of the songs of "Veera Raja Veera" (for AMV/Vanathi) and "Aga Naga" (for Kundavai/Vandiyadevan. (FYI, the Veera Raja Veera video song is super hot - Rajaraja Chola is looking at his beloved while she dances as though she is an extremely tasty snack he can't wait to sample :P)

ALSO, if anyone wants to make PS3 with these actors I WOULD LOVE YOU FOREVER. In my head, it would be about Vandiyadevan doing wild stuff and flirting with EVERYBODY while Arunmozhi Varman sort of sighs and goes along with him to try and exercise some control over him* because Kundavai will kill him if anything happens to her boo, and they keep getting embroiled in weirder stuff and getting hit on the head (Vandiyadevan) and chilling out looking at Buddhist cave art and talking to elephants (AMV) and Kundavai just sits back and continues to run the kingdom (because she knows that AMV will not let anything happen to her boo). And of course, Nambi would be keeping an eye on both of them as well. Meanwhile, Vanathi is doing lots of dancing and going on some of the art tours with her husband, and also hanging out with Kundavai and rolling their eyes over their husbands. That would be totally fine!

*one of the things I loved in the books was that Vandiyadevan is influenced by Arulmozhi to be more truthful and upstanding, while Arulmozhi gets more devious after he meets Vandiyadevan. I feel this dynamic (along with the real-life bromance of Karthi and Jayam Ravi - every interview I've seen with them is the two of them having a great time!) would be AWESOME.

OK, this is insanely LONG again but I really enjoyed the novels and the movies - each medium enhanced the other for me, and in my head, the version of Ponniyin Selvan is what takes the parts I liked the best in movies and film. So Movie!Aditha and Movie!Nandini, BOTH the Vandiyadevans, Kundavais, Arulmozhi Varmans and Vanathis live in my heart :D

And I've also acquired Anirudh Kanisetti's Lords of the Deccan (which is more about the Cholas' predecessors and opponents like the Rashtrakutas and the Chalukyas) and Kamini Dandapani's Rajaraja Chola, which is about Ponniyin Selvan (but also about his predecessors and successors.)

[thereader-radhika]

Malayadhwaja Pandyan in Mahabharata

Pandya, who dwelt on the coast-land near the sea, came accompanied by troops of various kinds to Yudhishthira.

This Pandya king is addressed by two names in the epic - Malayadhwaja and Sarangadhwaja. 'Malaya' and 'Saranga' both mean "sandalwood" and the name is derived from the Tripuranthaka aspect of Shiva, who made Malaya mountains (named for the Sandal trees that grow on it) his yoke during the burning of the triple cities. He is a very fascinating character.

During Yuddhishtira's Rajasuya, Pandya and Chola monarchs brought gifts which were accepted, but they were not allowed inside.

And the Kings of Chola and Pandya, though they brought numberless jars of gold filled with fragrant sandal juice from the hills of Malaya, and loads of sandal and aloe wood from the Dardduras hills, and many gems of great brilliancy and fine cloths inlaid with gold, did not obtain permission (to enter).

Discrimination! Discrimination!

His country was annexed by Vrishnis at some point and his father was killed by Sri Krishna himself.

It was he [Krishna] that slew King Pandya by striking his breast against his . . .

He yearned for vengeance and trained under the renowned teachers of that era for that purpose. Even if he couldn't have killed Krishna, he was capable of causing great damage, as we can see later. But he listened to good counsel and gave up his revenge fantasies for the greater good. Very admirable indeed.

The mighty Sarangadhvaja . . . his country having been invaded and his kinsmen having fled, his father had been slain by Krishna in battle. Obtaining weapons then from Bhishma and Drona, Rama and Kripa, prince Sarangadhvaja became, in weapons, the equal of Rukmi and Karna and Arjuna and Achyuta. He then desired to destroy the city of Dvaraka and subjugate the whole world. Wise friends, however, from desire of doing him good, counselled him against that course. Giving up all thoughts of revenge, he is now ruling his own dominions.

One can even say that Malayadhwajan became a karmayogi before Krishna advised Gita to Arjunan, by not chasing personal glory and fighting selflessly for the people who were consistently bad to his clan.

Praised as "hardly inferior to Indra on the field of battle" and "followed when he fights by numberless warriors of great courage", Malayadhwajan led one of the 7 akshauhinis of the Pandava faction and fought valiantly until the 16th day of the battle. I don't understand what was he doing with those Pandavas who wouldn't let him or his father (I not sure about the timeline) enter the Rajasuya yajnasala.

On the 16th day, as he was destroying Karna's army which "began to turn round like the potter's wheel", Ashwatthama challenged him to one-to-one combat. When he fought Ashwatthama, Karna destroyed the army that surrounded him and Ashwatthama destroyed his chariot, as his arrows were unable to pierce the King himself. The epic says that Ashwatthama was quite excited by this fight and didn't slay Pandyan when he got an opening because he wanted to fight for some more time. Malayadhwajan climbed a stray elephant and threw lances at Ashwatthama who narrowly escaped with his beautiful crown shattered. This infuriated him and he killed the king, his elephant and the final six warriors that followed their Lord.

At this, Ashvatthama blazed up with exceeding rage . . . and took up four and ten shafts capable of inflicting great pain upon foes. . . with three the two arms and the head of the king, and with six he slew the six mighty car-warriors, endued with great effulgence, that followed king Pandya . . .

@celestesinsight @willkatfanfromasia @sambaridli @harinishivaa @sakhiiii @whippersnappersbookworm @favcolourrvibgior @sampigehoovu @ambidextrousarcher

[nspwriteups]

Maayaiya Sol (Vanmozhi Two-Shot)

A/N: my very first Collab and the first of many with @thatacademic. Thanks @arachneofthoughts for the idea of Arulmozhi's every confusion disappearing the moment he sees Vanathi's Rakshasa Mamane dance 😂 Happy reading everyone.

"Come Thambi, we were waiting for you," Arulmozhi smiled at his Akka's words and seated himself in the settee next to Vanthiyathevan, acknowledging the latter with a nod and then turned his attention to the person sitting opposite to him, next to Kundavai. Vanathi felt his gaze on her and looked up, smiling wholeheartedly and was happy to see the gesture returned, so much so that she almost missed Kundavai telling her something. 

"....will you, Vanathi?" 

She stared at Kundavai, bewildered as to what conversation she was being a part of. 

"Forgive me Akka, I missed what you were saying," she said with an apologetic smile.

"In which world were you immersed in, Kanne? " Kundavai asked rhetorically while sending a quick glance at her Thambi. " As I was saying, the poojari from the local temple came to see me in the morning. There is going to be a mahapooja for the presiding Krishna deity in the temple and he asked me to be a part of the celebrations. Maybe you can come with me, Vanathi?" 

Vanathi nodded her head.

"I would like to make a suggestion, Devi," Vanthiyathevan chimed in. " Since every Samantha king from all over the Chola Kingdom will be present there, how about we present a spectacle for them on behalf of the empire? It will simply be beautiful, not only will everyone be aware of Chola Samrajya's boldness but also its elegance and grandeur." 

"That's a wonderful idea! " Kundavai joined in and soon they were talking of the various performances they could organize, so engrossed in their conversation that Arulmozhi wondered whether they were aware of his and Vanathi's presence. 

" I know what I want to see. A certain Ilavarasi enacting Lord Krishna," Kundavai said teasingly.

“Akka!” Vanathi blushed, forcing herself to not peer at Arulmozhi’s reaction to his sister’s statement. 

"Ah yes, I remember that. That was when I first met you two. And also the first time I realised I have a penchant for acting" Vanthiyathevan said, proud of his own praise. " Kodumbalur Ilavarasi was exceptional as Maya Kanna.”

 Vanathi was overwhelmed by the compliments, and she shyly gazed at the ground, not noticing Arulmozhi’s gaze find her in that same second.

Arulmozhi continued looking at all the three faces, though his main vision was a shy Vanathi, his surprise growing, as he watched this conversation like a spectator. 

"Maya Kannana?"

He knew his elder sister had caught the curiosity in his tone, if her indulgent smile was any indication.

"Yes my dear Thambi. My Uyir Thozhi was truly beautiful in that role and Patti was extremely proud and happy with her performance, as was the entire audience," Kundavai said

"Yes Ilavarase, you once asked why we call each other Maya Kanna and Rakshasa Mama occasionally, this is the reason," Vanthiyathevan replied. “We ended up dancing together.”

Arulmozhi glanced at Vanathi who was still blushing and smiling at all of them. He has heard of Vanathi's talent in music and dance, courtesy of his Akka mentioning it several times during every and any conversation, but he has never seen her dance in person. And now that he has heard even more about it,causing his curiosity to reach its peak. Added to it, the fact that even Vanthiyathevan has seen and danced along with her? He hated to admit it, but he suddenly felt a flash of envy inside him. 

How did Vanthiyathevan get to dance with Vanathi when he had never even seen her perform?

“Maya Kannane, did you also learn the song for it?” Vanthiyathevan now, completely enthused about his idea.

“She helped write it, Vanthiyare,” Kundavai said proudly, patting a blushing Vanathi’s head affectionately. Arulmozhi raised an eyebrow, now intrigued beyond comprehension. He had always known that Vanathi was very talented, but he had not expected her to have helped write a song completely. 

“Akka, you and Patti were the main writers. I just helped a little,” Vanathi said bashfully, meaning every word that came out of her. 

“It is your generous spirit that makes you say so, Kanne,” Kundavai shone in the light of pride that she had in Vanathi, reflecting like lamps in her orbs, stunning Vanthiyathevan again.

“Akka, how can I dance like that?” Vanathi shied, continuing. “The original dance was for celebrating the birth of Bhagavan Krishna at Pazhayarai.”

“It was. But Vanthiyar is right. We do need to express the elegance of Chozha Naadu, and you are the crown jewel, Kanne,” Kundavai said gently. 

“But Akka…”

Arulmozhi could see the reluctance on Vanath’s face to perform, and though he did not know why she did not want to perform, he wanted to make an attempt to get her to perform. If she still refuses, he will let the matter lie. 

“I think that would be great,” stated Arulmozhi calmly, though he could feel his heart beat fast at the thought of seeing her dance.

Vanathi looked at Arulmozhi,her eyes widening. Her main reason for not wanting to dance was to ensure Ponniyin Selvan knew she was not trying to catch his attention with her skills, but only with her heart. 

“Akka has praised your skills heavily, Devi,” Arulmozhi continued, pouring his earnestness into words. “So much so that my curiosity has been aroused. Please consider performing.”

Vanathi blushed, bending her head down before looking at Arulmozhi again, nodding shyly.

“I will dance. I only request Vanthiyar to also join me.”

*****

Vanathi stood in front of the mirror, adjusting her clothes for the thousandth time. She knew she looked beautiful in her Maya Kannan avatar, with the blue and pink robes, the bejewelled belt and necklace and other ornaments and above all the big Jasmine garland and the peacock feather tucked in the pink turban on her head. But what will Ponniyin Selvan think? Will he love her look? Or will he also mock her like Kundavai's other companions who take pleasure in teasing her? But then the rational part of her brain awakened. Why am I thinking so much? I am just going to pretend he is not there, that this is Janmashtami celebrations again with Kundavai Akka and Patti watching me and Vanthiyathevan dancing with me as Kamsa Mama. Yes. Otherwise I'll faint for sure. Oh Krishna! Watch over me. 

As Vanathi was immersed in her thoughts and prayers, Kundavai came in. " Kanne, why are you already in your outfit?" Kundavai asked confused.

" Akka, I was just trying it out" Vanathi turned around to face her Uyir Thozi

"Don't worry Vanathi. I'm sure he won't be able to take his eyes off you" Kundavai said teasingly and both of them giggled. " Now change quickly Kanne, there are some young girls who have arrived from the neighborhood to join your performance. Let us go and see them"

*********

Arulmozhi walked along the corridor, to any other onlooker it might seem the Ilavarase was supervising the ongoing activities for the Pooja. But his eyes were actually searching for the Kodumbalur Kula Vilakk. Where has she gone? A little far off he saw Vanthiyathevan standing in the balcony, leaning on the railing and looking down, a dreamy look in his face. 

"Vanthiyar" Arulmozhi called "What are you looking at?" Vanthiyathevan simply brought his index finger to his lips as an indicator to not make a sound and pointed down. 

Below them, Kundavai and Vanathi were playing with the little girls who have come to join her performance. Kundavai was seated with some girls around her and one sitting on her lap watching Vanathi  showing some dance mudras to another group of girls who were trying to imitate her. Arulmozhi smiled at the sight. It was truly heartwarming to see his Akka and her Sakhi so happy. 

"Beautiful" he heard himself remark

"She truly is" Vanthiyathevan said. Arulmozhi glanced at him and followed his line of vision. It was clear Vanthiyathevan eyes directly fell upon only Kundavai who was laughing with the girls and looking proudly at Vanathi. Arulmozhi cleared his throat and that seemed to make Vanthiyathevan snap out of his dream world. " Ummm..I meant they are looking very beautiful Ilavarase, and I'm sure the programme is going to be a success as well. I was just wondering who my Rakshasa minions would be. The last time, the minions I got were adamant in turning my head the other way whenever I tried to look at Iliya Piratti" he said with a huff of annoyance. 

Arulmozhi smiled and resumed looking at the gathering below, particularly the dancing diva in the centre of the group. It is said that Krishna was known as manmohan (winner of hearts) .And it seems this girl has already won his heart before donning the Krishna costume.

*************

The event Arulmozhi was waiting for was nearing, and he found himself excited for the day, wanting to see Vanathi sing and dance. He had also not seen her much, which did frustrate him a little, as he had gotten used to seeing her with Kundavai often. 

He did understand that she had chosen to also take over the organization of everything, including the other dramas that will be presented. 

But he wanted, no, needed to see her.

As he wandered around the palace, wondering how he would accomplish meeting her, he heard the faint sound of her sweet voice. 

Without any compunctions, he took off in that direction, needing to see Vanathi at least once. He came upon the open corridor, and spotted the clothes before he saw her.

Vanathi stood in light blue, her eyes quickly moving across all the garments in front of her, the seamstress smiling patiently. 

“Ammai, do you have a more mustard colour for the children? I think the bright yellow will clash with the open space, as we are not dancing under trees for it to contrast,” Vanathi said, pursuing the garments. She held up a colour with a smile. “Like this one, Ammai.” 

“I do, Ilavarasi. Should I use that for the children then?” 

“Please do. They are meant to bring the Ilaya Piratti at the start of the program as a sign of the one who has organized everything,” Vanathi said smiling. 

“Yes Devi. Are you still wearing the same robes you did for the Krishna Jayanthi festival?” 

“I am Ammai. Akka has a couple additions she wanted to try out, but all of that is within my own sarees,” smiled Vanathi. “I am trying to reduce your work, not add to it.” 

Arulmozhi had to smile at this interaction, Vanathi’s natural kindness was one of the things that made him feel she was right for him. 

“We are blessed to work with you and Ilaya Piratti, Ilavarasi,” said the seamstress, her eyes and tone so genuine that Arulmozhi was curious as to what else Vanathi had done. 

“It is all the blessing of Periya Piratti, Ammai,” Vanathi demurred. “If those are chosen, and we have fixed the Shakuntala drama clothes, we are done, Ammai. Will you be there for it?”

“Of course, Ilavarasi. None would miss your dancing and singing, it is a double treat for us,” said the seamstress, making Arulmozhi think that it was for him too.

“Ammai, it is all Ilaya Piratti’s teachings.”

“And your acceptance of it, Devi. You and the Ilaya Piratti are like the body and shadow, always together, and always one in everything you do.”

Vanathi smiled and blushed, helping the seamstress with her things, despite the latter protesting. Arulmozhi’s heart both thudded and melted at the natural compassion that flowed in her, his love shining like the Sun, the dynasty he descended from. 

The next morning 

The mandap in the temple was decorated as an open stage for the festivities. As Arulmozhi reached, the audiences were filling in, seating themselves in front of the stage. There were  seats placed on a podium behind them reserved for the royal family. He greeted his Patti who was already seated and sat beside her. He looked around, expecting to see Kundavai, Vanthiyathevan or even Vanathi..no his Maya Kannan. But to say he was disappointed to see noone around was an understatement. 

"Kanne, are you looking for someone?" He heard his paatti ask him. 

" Yes paatti. I am looking for Akka and Vanthiyar" he said, still wondering where they have gone.

"Only Akka and Vanthiyar?" He looked at his Paatti at her retort, smiling sheepishly. 

Just then the little girls who are performing in the spectacle started arriving on stage, receiving the applause of the audience. He saw the girls get into their arrangement but still failed to see the main dancer. Where is she? Has something happened to her? His curiosity was now replaced with concern. The next minute he heard a flute playing and saw the audience gasping and pointing upwards. He also looked up and widened his eyes at the sight as the song performance started. 

@ramcharanobsessed @dumdaradumdaradum @vibishalakshman @thatacademic @hollogramhallucination @kovaipaavai @rang-lo . @willkatfanfromasia @thelekhikawrites @thegleamingmoon @deafeningflowercat @yehsahihai @whippersnappersbookworm @itsfookingloosah @gemsmusings @chiyaanvikram @elvenladysakura . @matka-kulfi . @madatdisney @bumblebeeskywalker @vahnithedreamer @nkarti @dosai-maavu @utterlynotperfect @winter-birds @happy-bookworm @tumbledout @anabanana4115 @freeunknownwasteland @bhataktiatmacore @rapunzels-stuff @celestesinsight @mairablue @rationalelderberry @existenceiswhateven @arachneofthoughts

Will be continued in the next part

[fishnets-fingers]

Underneath the Stars

“So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs.

 “You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of not drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin.

PAIRING - spy!harry x princess!y/n

a/n -  i wrote so much. so, i’ve decided to split it into two parts. i made a banner for forbidden hours and it took me a lot longer than anticipated but i think it tured out great. as always, like and reblog. feed back is not only appreciated but much welcome. happy reading!

Word Count - 6.2k (not proofread) 

MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST

….

நீள்பயணம். Voyage. News had spread far and wide across the expanse of the empire about the Princess’ journey far East. Throngs of people gathered on the docks to bid farewell to her and scream out wishes of luck and fortune. It was a busy day, filled with fanfare from the subjects, priests blessing the vessel and ministers of court spewing out strategies whilst handing bundles of parchment of the meticulously crafted plans. 

A journey always stirred up feelings of unbridled joy, especially since the aim of this particular voyage is to draw up a treaty with Handuman - three small islands that lie smack in the middle of a crucial trade route between the Cholas and Burmese. The island kingdom that was a thorn on Y/N’s side for the past year; with news of shipment from Burma being pillaged and sabotaged at sea constantly thwarting her plans of bringing components of machinery to assemble aiding with agriculture. She put together a counsel which oversaw striking a peaceful agreement that would mutually benefit both nations, a long drawn process of negotiations with a vacillating King that finally culminated to this day.

A day where she set sail on a three week journey to visit the islands, attend a ball hosted in her honour, and cap it off with signing the treaty. Needless to say the kingdom was ecstatic with the promise of the Princess Royal bringing more riches into the land. All of Y/N’s diplomatic visits to neighbouring kingdoms resulted in astounding successes, so people did not have a shred of doubt that this one would go south. At the break of dawn, the majestic vessel was filled with her entourage - guards, a trade minister, the guard captain who was responsible for her safety, the sail crew, two of her handmaidens, and her lady-in-waiting, Shobhita.

Shobhita has been by Y/N’s side since they were partnered together for dance lessons fifteen years ago. As kids, Y/N took it upon herself to teach her how to conduct herself properly in court. Despite not liking the bossy Princess Royal, things took a turn for Shobhita when some children of nobility made fun of her lineage - going so far as to calling her ‘murky blood.’ She had light blue irises and hair the colour of sticky toffee - resembling her overseas mother, far different from what everyone else looked like and that made her an easy target. Though Y/N was not around for the name calling, she personally gave the other kids a stern talking, going so far as shoving one them and getting confined to her quarters by the Queen Mother. The two have been thick as thieves ever since. 

“Remember Y/N, you are representing our Dynasty from the second you dock there until you set sail,” the Queen Mother starts. 

“I know. I know, grandmum. Best behaviour and all,” Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“You know better than to roll your eyes at me?!?” The older woman narrows her eyes in warning. 

“Have I not conducted myself well on my trips so far?”

“I’m not saying that you haven’t, but be wary. I’ve heard nothing but vile things about the Prince of Handuman. I’ve seen to it that your guards have been doubled.”

“Is that why I’m going there alone without any advisors? You know I can take care of myself-“

“I know you can,” the Queen Mother interrupts her. “Keep an eye out on all our girls.” She whispers, taking her palm in her hands and gives it a warm squeeze, before walking towards the chief. 

When she gets a minute to herself, Y/N turns away from the enthusiastic crowd, gripping on to a wooden mast, she closes her eyes, picturing her garden. The patch of flowering shrub - right by her reading bench - which attracted the prettiest of blue butterflies. She feels the tightness in her shoulders ebb away, only to have it disrupted when she feels someone pull on her braid. She flicks her head around in annoyance to find her little brother sheepishly looking at her. 

“What do you want?”

“You’re sleeping standing up,” Karthi notes. 

“I was not. I was trying to relax,” she sighs. 

“I’m sure that the vast blue of the water is relaxing enough. Never knowing what’s under the thousands of leagues under the sea. Maybe there’s a giant fish with razor sharp teeth as long as the mountains waiting to capsize the boat. Shame, won’t even know it’s coming in the dark of the night with nothing but pitch black in the horizon-“

“Shut up, Karthi!”

“Calm down,” he throws his hands over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “You really think Dad is gonna let that happen to his favourite child. There’s no way this voyage was approved by him without contingencies for every single thing that could go wrong. He’s not gonna let the people’s Princess get lost at sea.”

“I appreciate you trying but it’s not helping. Why are you still here anyway? Didn’t Dad want you at the capital yesterday?”

“It can wait,” he shrugs it off. “I’m not going to leave without saying goodbye to my favourite sister.” He bends down to engulf his big sister in a hug. 

“I’m your only sister,” she chuckles, swatting him away. “In other words you hung around for morsels of attention from Shobhita.”

“Give me some credit!” He says feigning being wounded. “I brushed my hand against her arm,” he whispers, pointing to his left palm. 

Y/N shakes her head at the smirk that tugged at the corner of her little brother’s lips. They’ve had a crush on each other from when they were both old enough to understand what that meant. Being the daughter of a vassal king, who happened to be close friends with her father, it was agreed upon by the elders that Shobhita and Karthi were to wed. Though Shobhita was a Princess of a small hilly region in the dynasty, it was thought best by the parents to have her grow up in the palace and serve with Y/N as her lady-in-waiting to learn the ropes of handing the responsibilities that would fall on her shoulders once she married. 

Right as Y/N was going to say something witty, their attention was pulled to the commotion at the gangplank. When Y/N peers over she sees Harry hold up his royal seal to the guards before lugging up his things. 

“What’s he doing here?” Y/N asks her grandmother, but finds the Queen Mother cluelessly staring at her grandchildren. 

“Your majesties,” Harry bows, and wordlessly hands the Queen Mother’s guard the parchment before it’s passed to the old woman. 

His eyes flit over to Y/N with a small smile tugging but he finds her pointedly staring over his shoulder with a scowl. He frowns, did she forget our time at the docks? The last time he saw her was filled with fiery passionate kisses and sweet nothings. He didn’t expect the Princess Royal to throw herself at him in front of everyone but was he not warranted a polite smile. 

“It’s from your brother,” the Queen Mother tells the siblings. “Looks like Harry over here would also be travelling with you.”

“What? Why?” Y/N asks, dreading the thought of being locked in close quarters with the spy. 

“He wants Harry to accompany you and be added to oversee your guard detail along with the chief.”

“But that makes no sense, he’s hardly a guard,” she protests. 

“That’s quite true, Princess but I do know a thing or two about fighting. The Crown Prince wants you to be protected, that-“

“I do not require your protection, Mister Styles,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“The Crown Prince has spoken. His reasons are clear,” the Queen Mother tells Y/N firmly, handing her the parchment. “Harry Styles will be accompanying you.”

////

The texts spoke of the majestic wonders of the sea in all its boundless beauty, sailors talked about the vast bodies of water being their companion; the sea was glorified by almost everyone Y/N had met and even by herself - she’d allow herself to stand at the edge of the shoreline and daydream about what life on the other side of the water looked like. There was immeasurable poetry that was either written at sea or took place at sea, but what none of them talked about was what it did to your psyche. Four days of constantly bobbing about the tides, with nothing around but endless blue and a blanket of darkness at nightfall, not to mention the terrifying sounds that accompanied no visibility. She missed the feel of the earth beneath her feet, the smell of her freshly watered gardens, the buzz of bees, birdsong, the vivid colours of her flowers against the green.

She brushed them aside as champagne problems for the first two days but the confines of close quarters were slowly creeping up on her. It didn’t help that she was avoiding Harry on top of all this, so she’d holed herself up in her room with Shobhita working on a project for the gala that’s being thrown in her honour. That’s how she found herself standing at the stern, hands clasped firmly on the wooden banister, at an odd hour in the night. She had her eyes closed, not that it made much of a difference in pitch darkness as she felt the wind against her face. It was eerily quiet, yet noisy as the vessel zipped through the tides, and everytime she flicked her eyes open she would only stare into the vast expanse of the hazy abyss. An insidious fear crept in which made her bones tremble about the nightmarish creatures that would leap out from the water at any moment.

“Careful there, Princess, any more harder and you might splinter the wood,” Harry’s voice cuts through the silence, the teasing apparent in the undercurrent of his tone.

She blinks down at her the way her knuckles have gone pale from gripping onto the wood. Sighing she turns her head to the side, to catch a sweet smile painted on his face as he bows spitting out the formalities. 

“Mister Styles,” she acknowledges him halfheartedly, turning her attention back to the abyss.

“Trouble sleeping?” He enquires, stepping forward but the guard captain steps out from the shadow, directly in front of him, blocking his path. Harry throws his arms up, pausing. “I don’t mean any trouble, Captain.”

“You may not approach her royal highness,” he warns, the captain towers over Harry.

“It’s alright, Captain. He may step closer,” Y/N says.

“Princess, no man is allowed in your vicinity without a chaperone,” the Captain reminds her, and it doesn’t escape Y/N, the way he flexes his mammoth muscles to intimidate the spy. 

“He is no ordinary man, remember. The Crown Prince has instated him to oversee my guard detail,” she points out. “I think it is time he took over the watch. I have kept you up for three nights now, and it’s high time you get some sleep. You may retire to your cabin for the night, Captain.” She smiles, wordlessly thanking him for being diligent enough to follow her each night.

He nods, muttering something to Harry as he hands over his spear to him. He bids Y/N goodnight and disappears down to his cabin.

“Whew,” Harry breathes out in relief. “Thought I’d be tossed overboard. Thanks for the save.” He mutters, making his way to the banister, leaving a comfortable distance between the two in case the Captain decides to check in on him.

“Don’t go thanking your lucky stars yet, I can certainly see to it that it’s arranged,” she bites back at him.

“You’re angry with me,” he states, making her chuckle.

“Wonder what gave that away,” she mutters, directing an eye roll at him.

He ignores her retort and continues, “You’ve been avoiding me since the minute I came on board.”

“That’s two for two. Gee for a spy, you sure do have a knack for picking up on the fucking obvious,” she shakes her head. 

“I don’t understa-”

“Of course you don’t,” she huffs out a weak chuckle. “Apologies start with an I’m sorry.”

“Princess-” he starts, running his hand through his locks. “Y/N, I don’t understand why you’re cross with me. Is it because I’m sailing with you unannounced?”

“God, you’re thick,” she lets out a weak chuckle. “A storm hit the coast two days after you set sail to Lanka, Harry. I didn’t know for weeks if Karthi got the message on time!”

“I’m a good spy, am I not? When have I ever faltered in keeping to your word? Prince Karthi reached the Port Palace two weeks ago, according to your word, did he not?”

“That’s not the point, you idiot!” She turns to face him. “I did not hear from you! I did not know if you made it there. For two whole months! I didn’t know what to think.”

“Oh.” His face reddens as warmth spreads across his chest. He doesn’t understand why but he feels his face split into a wide grin as he replies, “I was doing my job and protocol states that - .”

“And you rode off to Vikram up north,” her tone was still accusatory.

“I had to, Y/N.”

“Why? Why did you have to get to him with such urgency? Was it Karthi’s orders? Why was it so important that you come with me all this way? Don’t give me all that poppycock about me needing extra security. My brother and I trust the captain with our lives. He’s overseen our protection since we were children.”

“Vikram’s mingled with the close friend of the Prince of Handuman. He’s foul, according to his best friend’s admission. He hits women and beds them without consent. He has complete disregard for matters of the court and he is well known for schmoozing -”

“Why does that even matter?” 

Harry lets out a frustrated groan, “Will you please just listen to me.” He continues when Y/N quietens down. “The royal astrologer had seen to it that your portraits were sent to all neighbouring kingdoms - under your father’s orders - for matrimony. Prince Vinay had come across it when you were liaising with them for the trade deal. He, um, publicly vowed to…”

“Vowed to what?” She implores when he trails off.

“I’m sorry for being crude but he said that he wanted to ‘tear off your clothes, pin you against his throne and thrust some obedience into you while the court watches.’” He takes in a long breath before he continues, “So you will be under his pinkie and he can boast that the great Chola Princess was another notch on his bedpost.”

Y/N’s face twists in disgust as she processes what Harry had just shared with her. “Vikram knows I can handle myself around such odious men. I have more protection during this trip than I ever had in my life. Why did he send you to supervise my security? You have no experience…”

“It was my idea actually. I asked him to sign that decree to let me join this company and this was the only way to not raise any eyebrows among our men. I know you can handle yourself around the Handuman Prince, but I would not forgive myself if something were to happen to you…” He pauses, eyes roaming around for any lurking shadows, what comes next is communicated in a murmur, “This could provide a perfect cover for a Chola spy to be digging around Handuman.”

“A cover for what?” Her eyebrows scrunch, mouth twisting down in displeasure of being kept in the dark.

“Too many ears around,” he reminds her. He interjects before she can protest, “You will be the first to know once I have evidence.”

They hear a heavy splash making the ship drag, and the two lurch forward at the sudden movement. Y/N gasps, grabbing hold of the bannister and tightening her grip as a strong hand wraps around her elbow and tries to pull her away. 

Things feel dissonant for her, there’s a ringing in her ears that’s managed to make all other sounds feel like it’s echoing from deep inside a well, she feels her body spasm as she struggles to draw in breaths, like her throat has something blocking the way. Her vision fades around the edges making her scrunch her eyes shut, but that only makes the successive shallow drum of her heart louder. She can feel the way the boat has a pull under her feet, like it was lugging around something heavy as it resists the sway of the vessel. She’s experienced unease before, but this time was different. This uneasiness was not fleeting. It was a type of fear. Fear oozes from the centre of her bones, slowly following its wake across everything it could consume inside her being. Paralysing to her anomalous senses. “I knew it,” she whispers. “Consumed by the waters, of course.”

If this was how she was going to perish, so be it.

“Princess,” his voice is distorted and faint but she picks it up. “Y/N.” It’s louder this time, floating closer. “We’re fine.” She feels his arms tightening around her frame. “Y/N, look at me.”

////

Harry does not understand what’s happening. Once second, he hears the men throw the anchor into the water and the next Y/N’s crumpled over the banister beside him. She looks to be in pain, her face ashen under the silver beam, he tries to tug her back - away from the edge but she’s bolted, hunching over the banister. He tries getting her attention, but can hear her mutter something about being engulfed by the water and it all makes sense to him. Why she was so hesitant to get on his boat when they were at the docks, how uncomfortable she was sitting opposite him, what made her hole up in her quarters all this time, the way she was gripping onto the banister earlier. The ocean petrified her. 

He understands why she was mad for not hearing from him sooner. He left right before a storm hit the coast, showering her in kisses and whispering sweet promises. Promises. Well, promise. He promised to be safe and he did keep up his word, and he left for the battle tents of the Crown Prince, like he normally would when his job was done. But things were not normal. They’d kissed. Several times in fact. And he’d confessed his fondness for her.

He never faltered in his duties, he’d kept them up this time too. He had not realised a duty had implicitly fallen in his shoulders to bear when their lips met. To let her know that he was safe and not taken by the treacherous waters of the stormy seas as she’d let herself imagine. She had been worried about him. He made her worry.

“We’re fine,” he reassures, moving closer to her, holding her close to him. 

It takes him a few tries but he gets her to look at him and a few more to convince her to let go of the banister. Her quivering lips and glassy eyes pierce his heart, but he manages to get her to slump to the floor beside him. It takes her a long while to stop trembling but he tightens her torso to his side, hoping to instill some warmth into her.

“We’re fine now,” he reassures, squeezing her hands. “The men tossed the anchor overboard. That is what made us jerk forward along with the ship. It takes a while for the anchor to latch onto the seabed. They’ve retired to their cabins for the night. It’s just that. It has happened everyday since we boarded the ship. It will keep happening until we reach home. We will sail again just before the break of dawn. Nothing is wrong with the ship. We are not in the way of any harm.” 

She nods as he continues, “I apologise for not letting you know that I had reached Lanka in one piece. I’m sorry for all the worry I have caused you. I never intended to. I promise to never make you fret again.”

“Okay,” she tells him in a quiet voice, closing her eyes, as she forces her shallow shuddering breath to regain its steadiness. 

He looks around once more, making sure that they’re truly alone, before focusing on her blinking back her watery eyes. “Why did you agree to the voyage in the first place?”

“King’s orders,” she tells him softly.

“You’re terrified of the ocean,Y/N ,” he reasons. 

“I have duties, Harry. I get to experience all the luxuries one can imagine, compared to all that-” she shrugs. “Champagne problems, I guess.”

Harry shakes his head, she says king like it wasn’t her father. He would never do something that he didn’t want to, no matter who’s orders. But it was important to the princess in front of him and there was no use trying to challenge that. This was her deal, and it only made sense that she saw it through - she owed her people that. Instead he picks a different route, one that would help him understand her better, “What’s got you this scared? I’ve never seen you like this before.” It’s true. She was the first Chola Princess to be trained in combat alongside her brothers - demanding her father that when it came to the worst, she wanted to defend her people. She did not want to be holed underground with other women of court or in a temple praying for victory. She was an excellent rider, often would compete in races and encouraged young girls to follow suit. 

“I do not wish to say,” she says hesitantly. She leans back and scoots away, her face slowly regaining composure.

“I don’t mean to pry, Princess. I grew up sailing the waters, I understand not wanting to recount a time -”

“It’s not that. I don’t have a harrowing story or anything.” She adds the next part quietly, “It is risible,” and her cheeks heat in response. Harry quickly notes the way she blushes, making him smile down at her in endearment.

“I promise not to laugh. Sailor’s honour,” he crosses over his heart.

Y/N lets out a peeling giggle in response, “You’re no sailor, Harry.”

“Yes, I am! Was practically born on a ship, Y/N.”

“You were born on a ship?” Y/N asks, sometimes it felt like he knew more about her than she did him. 

Harry shakes his head, “Was born in my mother’s cottage in North England.”

“Did you grow up there?”

He shakes his head again, this time quicker with a frown. “No. I grew up on my father’s ship. Back to what we were talking about; you can’t discredit me as a sailor.”

Y/N’s brows scrunch at the sudden pivot in the conversation, but she doesn’t press on further, opting to say, “I thought you were a spy.”

A warmth blossomed in Harry’s chest from the mocking undercurrent of her tone. He’s never had anyone volley a conversation with him, and it came easy with her. “I am more of a ‘Jack of all trades’ kind of person.”

“Ah, I see,” she chuckles, bringing her knees up to her chest and encircling her arms around it. “So a master of none?”

Harry laughs, a high pitched carefree one, “Better than a master of one.”

Companionate silence blankets around the two, Harry passes her his leather water flask - that was clasped to his belt - and she quickly drains it muttering a quiet thank you. Harry leans back on his elbows, looking up at the shimmering moon above, it’s lovely tonight, he thinks. He’s spent many nights in a bobbing vessel with nothing around but the moon as company but he doesn’t feel the familiar solitude tonight. There was no intolerable silence this particular night, just the tinkle of Y/N’s anklet and silent sighs that escapes her lungs. His gaze flits over to her cheek, smushed against her arm, her gaze is fixed on her fingers as they fiddle with the ornament. A simple gold rope with a small lotus motif made from three pink diamonds and an emerald, clasped around her ankle. 

Her foot. That’s what caught his attention, not the precious stones, but the curve of the arch of her bare feet. He wonders if it would tickle when he runs his lips over them, as he slowly nudged her knees apart, the fabric slipping away, the way her anklets would tinkle over his shoulders in sync with his head between her thighs. He shakes his head, rubbing his face, shifting to conceal his hardening cock and shoots her a polite smile.

“Not knowing,” Y/N says. “I do not like the deep waters because I have no idea what’s underneath.”

“No one does, Y/N,” he reminds her.

“I know. It is uncomfortable to not know. It feels like I am at its mercy, with the currents that can drag me under in a split second, if I’m not careful enough. It’s vast, and we have not explored these territories. I met with this woman that studies living creatures, and she believes that there is a high possibility of colossal squids and fishes deep down. There are old sailing accounts and drawings as proof. You have seen giant sharks and whales, have you not?”

Harry nods, as she continues fidgeting with her anklet. 

“Life began in the waters, Harry, and we hardly know a thing about it. We cannot survive diving the depths; we certainly cannot compete with the predators that we know of. Imagine being at mercy of something unknown. It is the biggest mystery known, quite possibly the worst because it takes up much of our planet and we cannot even begin to understand it. The ocean has had a longer time to evolve than us, and we know much of the sky than we do about what is below.” 

Y/N looks up at him, chin resting on her arm, as she waits for a response. She feels a pang of regret opening up to him when she is not met with anything. You expect him to comfort him just because you kissed a few times, a voice rings in her head followed by her grandmother’s lecture of having one’s cards close to your chest. No royal ever spoke of things that frightened them, she never did either. So, why did she think this was a good idea? Her maternal great - grandfather, a Chera king, was thrown into the castle moat filled with crocodiles by his subjects. He was vain and cruel to his people - granted that could have been the reason - but it had been prophesied that he would meet his end by the scaly reptilians, so he rewarded people to poach every last one of them and had them all in his moat. Ironically, he actively participated in furthering his prophecy while trying to avoid it. People would not have picked death by crocodiles if they never knew about his irrational fear. The kingdom was in shambles for many years until the birth of her mother, which enabled them to forge an alliance with the Cholas through matrimony.

 While the Princess was caught in her own dilemma, Harry had a similar one running through his mind. He wants to assure her how secure ships are. He wants to explain how when you’re in the middle of nowhere with dwindling supplies, you start to see and hear things that aren’t really there. He wants to tell her that worrying would do her no good, especially the things that were occupying her mind because they were simply out of her control. All of the things he’d come to learn from his father’s experiences and his own. She was right, they barely knew about the ocean, but it wasn’t something to lose sleep over. But he understands, Harry was also scared of the ocean as a child before he got used to it. This was Y/N’s first time, and fears aren’t supposed to be rational. It wasn’t far-fetched, she had her nose stuck in books for answers and was born into duties, which required she understood the workings of life. She prided herself for being a step ahead of people around her and to do that one needed control. But the moment didn’t call for revelations; she needed solace. 

He gives her a sympathetic smile before going on to say, “I was scared of the endless ocean as a child too, especially at night. You’re right, we don’t know much about the sea but we do know a lot about the sky.

“Look up for me, Princess,” he continues and they both take in the twinkling dots in the blanket of the night. 

“It’s beautiful,” she whispers, beaming up at the gleaming moon. 

“It is. We’re so caught up by things around us, we often forget to look up. The sky's the one thing that will not change. The moon will wax and wane and the stars will stay right where they are, flickering, guiding us to shore. It helped to look up at the sky when I was scared or in trouble. To be reminded that in the grand scheme of things, my fears didn’t matter. For whatever reason, the cosmos flows through me and that would mean my existence is a marvel. Even for a speck - no bigger than a grain of sand on the beach - the sky has many wonders in store for me.”

She stays quiet, her eyes glassing over, blurring her vision. Harry quickly catches the stray tear from the corner of her eyes with the backs of his fingers. He coos, leaning over to brush his lips against her temple, “I apologise for saying something out of line, Y/N.”

“You're not out of line, Harry,” she hastily blinks back her tears. “It helps. Thank you.”

“You don’t need to-“

“I want to.”

Anyone else pondering their significance by looking out into the universe might end up feeling helpless, paralysed even, but she feels none of that. She was born into significance and her roles only cemented the burden of upholding the legacy of the Crown. So, letting herself feel like a mere speckle was liberating. 

////

The days that follow the same routine - the Princess holes herself up in her cabin during the day with Shobhita. Harry’s unsure what she was up to - and formulating any judgement from the box of fabric spools one of the handmaidens carted into her room, and the occasional laughs from behind the door - he’s happy she was occupied. It was hard to catch a glimpse of her when the sun was shining; there were guard’s stationed outside at all times and he did not want to tick off the guard captain.

The nights. That solely belongs to the two of them. She would come out of her cabin two hours before midnight to catch some fresh air to find him softly smiling at her. He'd readily stand, at the ship’s bow, with a spear in his hand by the intricately carved wooden swan figurehead. Y/N had ordered the guard captain to retire at night, since he’d been stationed by her cabin all day. When he’d resisted - uncomfortable that the Crown Prince had instated a young man with no prior expertise as head of security- she’d gently reminded him that it was best for Harry to learn what guarding actually entailed in the safe confines of their ship. They’d spend the nights in each other’s companionship, Y/N’s heart swelled with Harry’s stories. Particularly the one of him as a boy, where he was convinced that someone had left a giant bunny up the moon. She looked at him endeared as he pointed out the outline of the rabbit in the dark markings of the full moon. It soothed her, looking up at the heavens with someone made her confining thoughts about the ocean melt away.

This night was no different, the Princess pads to her usual spot to find a blanket spread out with two pillows. Her eyes fly to meet him and he gives her the same smile he did every night, bending down to light the two oil lamps, illuminating the jade of his eyes. “Your highness,” he bows, stepping away.

She nods, shooting him a surprised smirk as she curls up with her book. Harry eyes the old parchment she unfolds, a star catalogue, and he can’t help the chortle that escapes his lips.

“Stop it, Mr. Styles,” Y/N shoots him a warning look, not wanting to draw the attention of the crew.

“I apologise, majesty,” he murmurs, but Y/N notices the mocking smile that paints his lips.

She pointedly ignores him with a roll of her eyes, as she focuses her attention on Aryabhata’s text in front of her. Harry had challenged her last night, and she was determined not to lose.

The crew had dropped the anchor and had retired below deck a short while ago, and Harry could not help but admire the furrow in between her brows as she concentrated. Harry had spent the last few nights pointing out different constellations that Y/N simply could not fathom. Harry was amused that it bugged her so much that she couldn’t map out the stars in the night’s sky with ease. Her anklet falls on the blanket, and he’s sure that she had loosened the clasp from how much she fiddled with it while reading. She sighs, turning her attention back to the gold rope, fastening it in place, making sure to press down on the hook.

“Rijl al-Qinṭūrus”, she reads out loud in Arabic after a long while, flicking up to look at the sky. The star map had a figure of a centaur and all she had to do was find the brightest one right at the bottom. Her head cranes to find the brightest spot in the sky - the alpha centauri.

The only problem was, there were multiple bright specks and she lets out a defeated sigh, pushing her hair back, “Fuck this,” she mutters.

“Not very royal of you, Princess,” Harry’s teasing tone floats over, she finds him slumped over the bannister looking at her. 

“It is the brightest and biggest star to spot at night,” he reminds her.

She narrows her eyes at him, looking back at the star catalogue again, and slumps back in defeat. “There’s something wrong with this star catalogue,” she declares. “There has to be, Harry.”

“Or maybe you are inept at this,” he smirks, coming to sit beside her. 

“I am not!” She protests. “The illustrations are misleading. None of the constellations look like this,” she points to the image of a centaur holding a spear on one hand and a dead goat on the other.

“That’s because it’s meant for people like you,” he chuckles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She arches her brow.

“Someone who learns from books. It only makes sense the catalogue has full fledged pictures of animals on there, otherwise it would be a mess of lines connecting one dot to another. So, accept defeat,” he urges.

“Fine. Tell me where the alpha centauri is,” she demands.

“What would my compensation be?”

“How about not making you walk the plank at dawn,” she scoffs. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Princess. I was thinking less along the lines of drowning and more along the lines of this,” he mutters as his hands reach to cup her full cheeks. They are warm under his palms, even against the biting gust, his thumb moves to caress her pillowy lips, eyes flicking down to her mouth landing on the crescent birthmark by her chin. They hadn’t kissed since he’d left for Lanka and every night he’d spend in her presence, Harry’s mind could not stop drifting to the way her mouth pressed against his with urgency.

Y/N eyes flutter shut, leaning towards him, nudging his cupid's bow with her lips. Her mouth brushes his as she whispers, “Not before I get my information, spy.” She backs away, observing the way his pupils dilate under the soft buttery light.

“You can’t spot the alpha centauri-”

“I know, which is why I asked you.”

He rolls his eyes at her hastiness. “No one can, because it can only be seen from the southern hemisphere.”

“You tricked me,” she gasps. 

He shrugs, as he tugs her to him, wasting no time in capturing her lips against his. It was more heavenly than he’d remembered. Y/N’s hands snake up to bury them in the baby curls at the nape of his neck, bringing him closer. She melts against his chest, curiously slicking her tongue against his lips, smiling as he parts his mouth for her. She tasted like the tamarind candy she loved. Harry drops one of his hands from her cheek, finding home in the curve of her hip. It’s heady, both greedily smacking wet kisses the curve of their jaw when they part to draw in air. Harry’s heart thumps loudly against his chest, sending him rhythmic reminders that he was twitterpated by the woman trailing her lips against the stubble of his jaw. Plebeians and royalty don’t mix, and on the rare occasion that they did, it never ended well. But until midday tomorrow - when they would reach the port of Handuman - she was just a woman, made from the same stardust as him, whom he wanted to keep melding lips with.

LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK SO FAR!

[nidhi-writes]

Trinity - The Men of Ponniyin Selvan

Vanthiyathevan:

He is funny, he is charismatic, he is a soft soul who fights for his loved ones, he is a warrior who make sure to defeat enemies so that his prince win. He is a wandarer bt with an aim, he wanders for love, he wanders for passion, he wanders for a reson to live, he wanders to achieve his Princes goal.

Just like his name he is attractive, restless, determined and much more.

To Aditha Karikalan he is the best friend he ever known, he is the best warrior he had ever fought along in the war.

To ArunMozhi he is teh best brother-in-law he could ever find, best humanitarian he had seen, and a best man.

To Kundhavai he is her lover, her husband, her heart.

Aditha Karikalan

The crown prince of Choa desam, the ferocious lion tiger who preyed on his enemies, he roared like a lion on the battlefield making his enemies run away. The young tiger whose life was filled with many wounds and scars but yet fought as a king.

Would he be different if his white flower chose him? Would he still be restless if his love had not been abolished from the land? Would he still be dead if his love touched his heart with her hands instead of a sword?

The death that caused a turn in history, the death that made Ponniyin Selvan into 'Raja Raja Chozhan'

ArunMozhi Varma aka Ponniyin Selvan aka Raja Raja Chozhan

The 'Kutti Puli' of Chozha desam, the most generous, righteous of them all. He is the favorite person of Cholzha Desam. The lovely younger brother of Princess Kundhavai and Aditha. The prince who never meant to be a king, the king who rose to achieve the greatest, the king who soared through the sea to capture the kingdoms, the king who roared enough to be heard all through.

He is kind, he is charming, he is lovable, he is the Prince, and at last, he is the King. What more can you ask in a person and one that captured the heart of the Kadambur princess and held her hand in marriage.

With him started the golden era of the Chola kingdom.

[whencyclopedia]

Chidambaram

Chidambaram (Cidambaram) is an important Chola temple site in Tamil Nadu, southern India. Most of the temples at Chidambaram were built in the 12th and 13th centuries CE. The site is dominated by the huge gateway tower of the Nataraja temple but Chidambaram also boasts the first Devi or Amman shrine, the first Surya shrine with the distinctive stone chariot wheels which would adorn many subsequent temples, and the first large Siva Ganga tank. In this respect Chidambaram is something of a transitional site, linking elements of the old and new styles of Indian temple architecture.

The name Chidambaram, one of several from antiquity, derives from the Tamil Cirrambalam, meaning 'little hall'. The site was chosen because according to mythology it was the precise spot where the Hindu god Shiva had once danced in a grove of tillai trees. The dance was, in fact, a competition between Shiva and Parvati and naturally the great Shiva won. The story became a popular subject in Hindu art over the centuries.

The site is enclosed within four perimeter walls and covers a rectangular area of 55 acres. Within the compound are shrines, halls, temples, ornamental gateways, and a large ritual bathing pool, known as a Siva Ganga tank, which is surrounded by cloisters. Inscriptions claim the site was built by various Pandya kings and local rulers but none are contemporary with the dates the buildings were actually first constructed. The walls and east gopura (gateway) may be ascribed with greater certainty, and were probably built by Kulottunga III, who reigned from 1178 to 1218 CE.

The Nataraja temple was constructed between c. 1175 and c. 1200 CE. The actual temple shrine is relatively modest as by now in Indian architecture the gopuras had become the most important structures, at least in terms of aesthetics. The twin sacred chamber was, however, adorned with copper sheets covered in gold by successive Chola kings. The shrine is preceded by a dance hall and large entrance porch with columns (mandapa).

The massive granite and brick east gopura dominates the site but there are three other gopuras on the north, south and west sides (the earliest). The corbelled roofs diminish as the structures rise and are finally topped with the usual barrel-vaulted roof (sala), the eastern gopura also having a row of 13 decorative finials. The east gopura has a proper interior floor at each of its nine levels and there is an interior staircase which climbs to the very top of the building. All four gopuras have false windows on their facades, typical for this kind of structure, and pairs of pilaster columns set at regular intervals. The second floor of each gopura also has a passageway which worshippers ritually walked around. The entrance archways all have coffered ceilings decorated with relief panels.

Of particular note at Chidambaram are the thousands of sculptures adorning its buildings. In particular there are many statues of women in a wide variety of dance postures. Many statues are accompanied by quotations from Hindu literature which provide an invaluable reference for scholars. There are also figures of the four dvarapalas (guardian demons), the dikpalas (cardinal directions), many figures of Shiva performing heroic deeds, various other deities such as Vishnu, Devi, Sarasvati, and, unusually in southern architecture, river goddesses.

Finally, Chidambaram is also famous for its 17th century CE Nayaka ceiling paintings which decorate the Shivakamasundari shrine of the Nataraja Temple. More than 40 panels depict scenes from the life of the saint Manikkavachakar, a devotee of Shiva.

Continue reading...

[willkatfanfromasia]

Thanks for reading and encouraging me guys☺️ here's the finale💗

A Matter of Chance -17

The coming weeks saw Nandini converse more closely with her twin, although the world saw them as uncle and nephew’s wife who shared a common interest for spirituality. She notice his eyes, face and gestures and was gaining an idea about his motivations and insecurities. His doe eyes resembled her own as a youth while she mourned fate for parting her from Aditha. The same man who was now her brother’s challenger.

She made use of her ‘admirers’ to shepherd their relatives and friends into not changing sides regarding the succession.

She thanked Perumal daily for Sembiyan Madevi’s and kundhavai's uncharacteristic non-interference during her wedding plans. But she realised they merely saw her as a candy for tantalizing Aditha into remaining at Thanjai, to prevent Madhurantakan from becoming king

How the tables had turned! they plotted to ensure neither twin reached the throne but now it was destined for atleast one.

She sat in the palace courtyard with Madhurantakan, observing the ornate water fountain and its bubbling when she began.

“Does it hurt? It must, right?

“What?” asked her companion

“Being lied to and led on, only for them pull the ground from your feet?” Nandini continued, looking into his eyes

“Cha! I never thought that your life can be difficult too. I thought hardship was only for folks like us- abandoned at birth, raised in a humble home, exiled for attracting a man beyond her and to live alone amongst the wilderness “ she lamented.

Madhurantakan’s face curled in sympathy, May Shiva forgive him! here he was cursing his fate- bitter over the throne not falling into his lap- while his akka had undergone pain beyond his comprehension.

He bore no ill will for Aditha Karikalan. He merely resented how Sundara chola ‘s 2 sons seemed to have all glories served to them on a silver platter while he wasn’t given a choice. People whispered that he too deserved the throne and he had believed it. Only now, the man he thought to be his father wasn’t that and he was left with no basis to question them. His ‘mother’ raised him away from war and politics and now he understood why- he was merely an ornament- admired but of no practical use.

His opinion of his ‘nephew’ was greatly improved by his steadfast commitment to his twin. The stubbornness that once seemed ungodly now showed a brother in-law who’d always protect his sister.

“They’ve used you ill, thambi (little brother). To raise you as a placeholder, to have cornered you such that you can neither lay claim to the throne nor reveal your plight to others” nandini said tutting “they shielded you from the common citizens, but didn’t hide your upbringing from the aristocrats- wonder why?” she trailed

Nandini saw him realize with every word she spoke that it wasn’t merely his supposed birthright that attracted the chieftains. His cloistered upbringing, away from people, politics and battlefield made him pliable as clay. They’d press their opinions as facts and he would have to listen. Any minister or courtier would see him as a simple devotee to be influenced.

Before he could think of another existential crises, Aditha’s voice boomed “Sithappa, you have taken up enough of my patta mahishi's time today. I have come to steal her lest you send her back into the temple” he laughed at own joke as his wife fondly rolled her eyes.

Madhurantakan was left perusing his ambitions as the couple skipped away to their bedchamber.

They kept him in the dark all these years, exiled his sister and now they’ve tied his hands.

Perhaps his claim to the throne was invalid, but his twin still stood a chance to one-up those Chola elders.

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

Parthibendran and Kandhanmaran were turning out to be miracle workers. They enjoyed being seen as altruistic patriots while they yearned for crumbs of the pattathu ilavarasi’s attention.

They spoke of Aditha Karikalan’s prowess in the battlefield that subdued neighbouring kings. They hailed Arunmozhi’s- Ponniyin Selvan- unmatched place in people’s hearts. Choosing one with neither asset will cause disquiet inside and outside the empire, they said. The chieftains too slowly began turning when enough people repeated these opinions.

To thank his 'friends' for their 'services', Aditha grinningly handed them permanent fiefdoms near the northern borders. “Serves them right for ogling her, like she’d give them the time of day” he harrumphed.

Nandini shot a satisfied smirk at her husband. She promised she’d ‘make amends’ to him for using his friends and making him jealous, and was definitely looking forward to it.

The chieftains grew increasingly reluctant to endorse madhurantakan’s suit. Their influence, afterall, greatly depends on the Emperor’s power. But they had given him their word and the hand of chinna pazhuvettarayar’s daughter and felt guilty backing out.

When Prince Madhurantakan – now supportive of Aditha’s claim for a reason only few knew- finally negotiated control for temple administration over being heir, they agreed with great relief.

“The Crown Prince mulishly wed a nobody, and Princess Kundavai too seemed to have set her sights on a penniless soldier- a lord only in name” the nobles lamented. Nevermind, Prince Arunmozhi may still become our son-in-law they soothed themselves.

Sundara Chola’s guilt over her mother gave Nandini’s efforts the final edge. He was ashamed at his inability to protect Mandakini and decided to ensure at least her daughter lived well.

She didn’t have to persuade or plot to make him ensure Aditha’s position.

Nandini marched out into the gardens towards her smiling husband, smoothing the silk saree over her bump and admiring how Perumal offered her a chance to rearrange her life. Her face glowed with the satisfaction of a job well done and leaned back into him.

She munched on a fruit while relishing Aditha’s roving hands, grateful for that day in the woods. And grateful to her husband’s perseverance

Nandini enjoyed her tenure as empress, working for the land’s orphans. Her Emperor’s devotion to her proved a greater prize than the throne.

The imperial couple spent their freetime between the Pazhayarai perumal temple and a Krishna temple that they built in Thanjai, the latter curiously resembling a small temple in the forest. Nandini would spend early mornings and some evenings leaning against the temple pillar chanting pasurams as her husband laid on her shoulder with closed eyes.

Courtiers were left wondering about her powers- stubborn aditha karikalan who couldn’t be swayed by his parents or the ilaya piratti- could be persuaded by mere glance from his consort. Aditha took pleasure seeing his wife thrive at court- seeing her manipulate the vultures who thought her beneath them only made her more irresistible.

The couple’s absolute need for one another shocked people – it was a wonder they survived their separation! Indeed, Aditha’s wars became infrequent, but when he did return his normally composed wife would cling onto him for days inside their chamber.

Marriage to Vanthiyadevan softened her once thorny sister in law, who had grown to respect her charming manner of manipulating courtiers. They often joined forces, rendering their foes defenseless. Kundhavai also was appeased by her dear younger brother Arunmozhi dutifully falling for her friend Vanathi- resulting in a marriage that strengthened their clan. Aditha was proud of matchmaking for the matchmaker.

The Empress Dowager was pleased with Nandini for thwarting Madhurantakan’s coup, and Madhurantakan was pleased seeing his sister as sole chakravartini- a mutually beneficial settlement.

Aditha was a formidable administrator, disproving those who called him a warmonger and was assisted by his astute brother Arunmozhi . His besotted wife bore him daughter after daughter filling the entire nursery, prompting bittersweet “better luck next time” greetings from all around them.

But for a couple who expected to live a barren life devoid of love, each daughter was nothing short of Gods’ favor upon them. They joyously lived, secure knowing that Arunmozhi would make a great emperor beloved by the people.

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