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hum-suffer · 13 days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He can kill. He chooses not to.

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

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

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

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

Bhairav hears footsteps before he sees him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A momentary success, however.

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

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

Bhairav applauds her patience.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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The anger his princess holds calms down over the day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Just like she keeps fixing him.)

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

His breath catches.

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

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

She got him a Muslin tunic.

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

She made it.

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

Him, of all people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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hum-suffer · 3 months

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We'll say hello again (Nevermind the chasm between us) 12

The Diwali celebration is a beautiful sight to see at any day and especially at night. It's gorgeous and the whole state looks alive for the fortnight.

Gauri is allowed to attend the puja, the gleam in her brother's eyes tells her he had something to do with it but he's never opened up about it and Gauri doesn't think he will answer truthfully if she asks.

Something in her makes her want to drown. Does she need a man, even if it's her brother, to protect her? To defend her? To advocate her validity?

A finger brushes against her wrist and Gauri glances at Maa. She gives Gauri a smile, gentle yet reprimanding. "Focus, daughter." Gauri, properly chastised even though she hadn't even been scolded, looks away smiling.

They're given the first prasad after the Puja and as is traditional, Gauri takes the plate of fruits and smiles at the Rajpurohit. "Let me have the honor, Pandit ji." The Rajpurohit's face twists in a bitter grimace and Gauri takes all the more enjoyment in it. However, he seems to be trying to shove the plate off to someone else.

Gauri glances at Maa out of the corner of her eye and her impassive face tells Gauri that she needs to learn how to handle this on her own.

Her smile turns sharper, bigger. She beckons Bhairav forward and gestures him towards the plate. "Let my friend have this insurmountable honour, Pandit ji."

She shouldn't take so much pleasure in being a general menace. But making the Rajpurohit choose between either a woman recently over her periods and a man who is a mere sworn sword, little more than a slave in the eyes of men.

Pandit ji looks to be gritting his teeth before he smiles at her and wordlessly shoves the plate of fruits into her hands. She turns around pleasantly. "Come, Bhairav, one of us has to distribute the fruits, don't we?"

She's sure the Rajpurohit heard her when she hears Bahu snort and Maa sigh.

Bhairav looks awestruck and he makes a token protest about being unworthy but Gauri gives him a smile, giddy and smug, and Bhairav closes his mouth instantly.

Katappa is the only one who has tears in his eyes as Bhairav hands him a slice of banana. Gauri beams at him,"What are you staring at, Mama? It's Diwali, look alive!" The other people in the temple seem ecstatic to see her, some of them touch her hands and, as much as she tries to not let them, her feet.

The plate empties not soon after, when they're outside of the temple. The crowd has already thinned, and Gauri already has a ridiculously smug smile on her face. Bhairav looks done with her. "My princess, do try to look less smug. The public does not know that you gain pleasure in baiting your possible assassins."

"You worry too much, Bhairav." She grins at him, but her hand spasms in the way that reminds her once again of the way that Ratan had jerked her off. To distract herself, she pointedly drops the last slice of an apple into his hand. Bhairav gives her a look that tells her that he knows that she's distracting him from the conversation.

Before she can cajole him into being less sour, she hears a whisper of a movement. She stills and so does Bhairav, even though he looks confused. Her sense of hearing is sharper than most, he mustn't have heard it. There's another movement and this time, she can hear steel. She looks at Bhairav out of the corner of her eye and sees him looking around in confusion. He hasn't heard that.

Her heart beats in her ear and she takes a deep breath. She knows, she knows that she needs Bhairav here. But she also needs witnesses. Prominent, objective witnesses.

"Get my brothers and Maa." She tells him, her voice sounding harsh and furious to her own ears. She sees him open his mouth in protest but before he can speak, she gives him a look. "Now, Bhairav."

He hesitates for a moment before grabbing his dagger and pushing it in her hands. "I shall be right back, my princess."

Gauri nods at him and tightens her grip on the dagger, one finger at a time. His dagger is beautifully sharp and she's grateful for that. He gives her a heavy look and Gauri doesn't know what it means but before she can have a chance to decipher it, he turns on his heels and makes a run for the temple.

Gauri tilts her head, focusing on the full thump on the ground. It's probably footsteps. Uneven footsteps.

She looks back at the temple for a moment and breathes. Let me live today, she thinks. Let me have my vengeance.

The footsteps get louder.

There's a pause, a heavy silence, before she hears the noise quicken and steel cutting through air behind her. Gauri ducks on sheer instinct and it's the Rajpurohit who has a sword in his hands, holding it over his head, ready to strike again. Gauri swipes the dagger at his ankle, uncaring of war rules and ethics. He curses, jumping back, and swings the sword again. She parries with the dagger but she's at a disadvantage because of the size of the blade.

He kicks her stomach, and Gauri stumbles enough to trip and fall down. Before she can stand up, he kicks her face, hitting his foot on her nose.

Gauri grabs his ankle and twists it, pushing him away to stand up. She breathes heavily through her nose and tries to stabilize her heaving chest. Gauri feels her nose hurt and eyes burn in response but she only readjusts her hold on the dagger she's and snarls.

"You dare?" He says,"Coming here after I told you not to, sullying my place of worship with your presence! You dare break the sanctity of my sanctuary?"

Gauri grits her teeth. She doesn't reply and ducks underneath the sword. The blow would have sliced her torso and pulled out her intestines. The blaze of fury burns in her veins and she uses his momentum as an advantage to twirl around him and hit his back with the thali. She grasps the thali in her other hand vertically and stabs it in his back again, twice, thrice, until he's leaning forward and falling down and coughing.

Gauri doesn't realise that's blood on her hands.

But when she does, a surge of bloodlust roars through her. Now, she will aim for the neck.

He turns around at the last moment and kicks her stomach, sending her tumbling back, on the ground. She heaves and feels the ache spread over her torso like venom. Gauri clenches her teeth. She stands up again.

But before she can drive the dagger through his heart, there's already an arm snaking around his neck and choking him. She recognises the armband. It's Bhairav.

The Rajpurohit gurgles and elbows Bhairav, who grunts but doesn't let up. Gauri takes the moment to punch his nose, once, twice and thrice. Her eyes meet Bhairav's over the Rajpurohit's shoulder and the fury she sees in his eyes blinds her for a moment.

She wants nothing more than to kill him.

She knows that it is what he is feeling.

Dizzy with pain and want of blood, Gauri grits her teeth. "Don't kill him," she rasps,"Don't kill him, Bhairav."

He is hers to kill, Gauri thinks. But she won't kill him. It is not her discretion.

Bhairav nods at her resolutely, even as the Rajpurohit's eyes droop and his gurgles die down. He holds her eyes, even as her family comes closer. He holds her eyes, as her brothers fuzz over her and Katappa fuzzes over him. He holds her eyes and Gauri holds his dagger.

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The trial is but a farce.

Somehow, her uncle manages not to get his name in the middle of the hell that the Rajpurohit's statement is. The official statement tells his distaste of Gauri due to her impertinence and her major flaw of being a royal woman.

Gauri doesn't stay to see the end of the trial.

Her stomach is covered with bruises, black and blue. Her hand heals a little everyday.

Bhairav is thoroughly scolded by Katappa and Bhalla for leaving her and Bahu is an overbearing shadow. Maa doesn't allow her to be alone anywhere until the trial ends. Bhairav keeps his duties impersonal. Her uncle gives her snide looks.

Gauri wants to scream.

It is her life that was threatened and yet her decisions seem to be everyone's favourite idea to despise.

Bhairav trails behind her, quiet as a mouse. His silence burdens her in ways she cannot begin to explain.

Gauri walks towards the armoury where Katappa is training the new recruits. He smiles when he notices her, the only person who isn't disappointed by her these days.

He walks towards her and stands beside her, Bhairav stops at a respectable distance to give them the illusion of privacy but they all know that he can hear them.

"How are you faring, Gauri?" Katappa asks her, gesturing a guard to bring her a chair. She overrides his order with a shake of her head.

"Way worse than is expected of a person who survived an assassination attempt. It seems that the only one happy to see me in this palace is my damned horse."

Katappa chuckles at her. "It is not like that, Gauri," his tone is reassuring but does it really matter? He continues,"We were all just very worried for you when Bhairavrath burst through and told us to come to you without any explanation and we found you two fighting the Rajpurohit. You must admit, it is a sight one cannot understand. An assassination attempt on you, Gauri. It is no small deal."

"And yet, I am made to feel like the culprit. Because I cared for diplomacy more than bloodlust?" She looks away with a sneer, staring into the far ends of the city that too must have heard about what happened at the Diwali Puja. "Whatever they say, Mama, I am still my mother's daughter. Polity is my best suit. I did what was right, and yet no one seems to want to understand me."

She's aware that she sounds petulant but is too far gone to care. She just wanted what was best for the state and her family, damn them. The least they could do is understand her reasoning.

Katappa's eyes soften. "Tell me, then."

Gauri sighs. "Had I not sent Bhairav away, we would have dealt with the Rajpurohit too. He is much more efficient than I am at the moment, I am very well aware that the matter would have ended without either of us hurt, had I let him stay."

Katappa doesn't say a word, lets her continue.

"But then, the tale could have been spun. We're but children in the eyes of you all, do not dare to deny it. Had you found that particular scene without warning, the tale could have been spun to say that we were misguided and we were the real perpetrators." Gauri sighs and wishes she hadn't denied the chair. She hadn't taken into account just how tired she is.

"And Maa may have trusted us, but she would have been labelled an emotional and unfit ruler, had she trusted the word of her daughter over the circumstantial evidence." Gauri turns again, catches Bhairav's eyes. He doesn't pretend that he is not overhearing them. He raises an eyebrow and the action endears him to her undeniably, a hint of his personality she's seen in two days.

She turns back to Katappa. "I don't want the crime of Brahmhatyaa on either of our heads. And trust me when I say this, Mama; the man would have been dead if I was as honest or as frank as my brothers are. He's alive, because he is useful. I let my culprit live and for what? Scorn? Distrust? Disappointment?"

Bitterness clogs her throat and she clenches her hands, her healing one sending tingling sensations up her arm. Her mouth tastes like ashes.

Katappa smiles at her, in that soft fatherly way that he so seldom does. Often, he preoccupies himself with believing that he is unworthy of the love that Gauri and Bahu give him. It is true that Gauri doesn't share that deep of a bond with him— she follows her brother, blindly, and if he gives his affection to Katappa, so shall she— but she's always had a kind of kinship and easy affection that flows between them. He provides her with clarity and safety.

Katappa is her safety away from comfort.

"Gauri, my child," he whispered, voice deliberately lowered and kindred,"I do not think that you want me for this conversation."

Gauri shakes her head. It is true that she wants her brothers and Maa to understand her. It is truer that she wants Bhairav to stop being so impersonal. But she needs Katappa to know this too. "No. I am at the correct place, having a true conversation with the correct person. The others that need to know, will ask me. If they can condemn me without knowing, they can apologise without knowing, too."

Her anger shimmers close to the surface even as Katappa changes the topic and asks her about her plans for the future and he tells her of ridiculous rumours that fly in the city. Some are amusing while some are plain unbelievable.

"They say you too Mata Mahalakshmi's blessings and tore down the Rajpurohit like She did with Kohlasur." Katappa says as they slowly come to an end, pride clear in his tone. Gauri shakes her head with a smile. She really loves the small folk and their inclination towards the dramatics of life.

"I shan't keep you any longer, Mama. Thank you for listening to me." She moves forward and tenderly hugs him, mindful of her own bruises. Katappa, infinitely more mindful, keeps his hands on her shoulder and her head, patting her head. She can tell that he's shocked but he doesn't freeze.

"Thank you for sharing with me," he says as they part, his eyes suspiciously glistening. "And do come whenever you will it. You are always welcome."

She nods and smiles at him. It doesn't feel forced.

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The stony silence between them continues all the way to the gardens. Gauri, still righteously angry, feels no need to break it. Let him suffer, she thinks. Let him suffer in my silence.

Gauri sits down on the ground, curling in on herself to save her from the cold. She looks at Bhairav, standing rigidly, and feels the sting of mercy in her heart. "Sit down if you want to, Bhairav."

She doesn't look up to see if he sits down. After a moment of hesitation, she hears shuffling and he's sitting beside her.

Gauri closes her eyes and hopes that her mind quietens now, after her talk with Katappa. At least he listened to her. She needs to talk with her family too, needs them to know, too. But not today. Not even before they approach her. She has some self respect, damn them.

"I was nine," Bhairav begins in a whisper,"when my sister was murdered."

Gauri looks at him in shock, frozen. She expected a lot of things but not this. She turns completely towards him.

He doesn't glance at her when he continues,"My family wasn't the happiest but we made do. My mother...she left us. My father raised my sister and I to the best of his abilities, of course. We had a large age difference— ten years. My father died when I was seven and my sister later married her childhood friend. We made do."

Bhairav clears his throat and Gauri shifts, closer. Not touching him, for she knows what is proper, but she hopes her attention and silence provide him courage to continue, if he so wishes.

"I was out, gone with Katappa to learn sword fighting. My didi and jijaji did not like to fight but they supported me. They were sweet, non violent. When I came back, the door was broken down and they were lying dead, in their own house." He clenches his jaw and looks down at his feet. His hand plays with the black threat on his ankle. Gauri averts her eyes respectfully.

"They were killed, for money. My jijaji had earned good money for his pottery. They looted the house and killed them." Bhairav looks at her now. His eyes are smouldering and rimmed red. But his voice still breaks when he promises,"I will not see you dead as well, my princess."

Gauri nods. She understands what he means. He's always been one for a few words, but she's always felt what he feels.

He feels he failed his sister. He was devoted to her. His father was not the best but he tried and Bhairav respects that. His sister raised him. He loved her. He loved his brother-in-law too, felt indebted to him for letting Bhairav stay in his house. He never felt that he belonged in their house. It was theirs, not his. Now that it may be his, he hates it.

He thinks he failed his purpose, his devotion— he fears to fail another purpose, another dare she say it? devotion.

His anger is at her for risking herself but also at himself for obeying her.

She deliberately softens her voice,"And I will not have you hung because you levelled allegations against the Dowager King and the Rajpurohit, Bhairav. We needed witnesses, ones that could be unquestionable. Your life is my responsibility, your honour is my responsibility. I will not have you become a target. In return, I promise to do my level best to save myself from any dangers, but you must also always obey me in this capacity. Trust me."

Bhairav shakes his head and gives her a smile, fond and tired at the same time.

"Your honour is my honour, and your life is my life, my princess. And whether I like it or not, I am going to obey you for the rest of my life, my princess. Just never at the cost of your life. Never again."

Gauri smiles at him, tentatively, and teases,"We are at an impasse, then."

"How about I obey you and you only order me to save your life?" He asks with a charming grin.

They both know that either will stop at any cost to save the other.

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#desiblr #suffer ye suhana nahi #desi tumblr #baahubali #bahubali #amrendra bahubali #devasena #prabhas #ram charan

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