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sada-siva-sanyaasi · 7 months

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jagadeka veerudu athiloka sundari - part fourteen

(a/n - have you missed me? hellooooo there, sorry for vanishing for six whole months, I just lost the will to write, me thinks. anyway, enjoy? enjoy.

~ juhi <3)

Masterlist

Bijjaladeva stormed out of the palace, as fast as his legs could carry him. It had been eight whole months since he had seen his son, and he slowly went insane in the huge palace by himself. Kattappa governed the empire on Bhalla’s behalf, adding insult to his father’s injury. Now that his son had finally returned to him, he could be happy.

Or so he had thought.

Bhalla returned to Mahishmati with his fully pregnant wife, her best friend’s words from six months ago ringing in his ears.

Devasena stood a few metres away from Bhalla, her grip on her sword steel-like. “She needs to be at Sundarsi right now, and you know that. Why did you bring her here?” “Because she needs her best friend more.” Bhalla stared ahead, watching the small kingdom.

“Kuntala looks like it has recovered.” Devasena scoffed at his remark and glared at him. “No thanks to you.” Silence settled as her eyes softened slowly. “You can keep her here however long you wish to, but she needs to be at her home to be truly happy. To be safe. Or her child-”

“I can’t take her to Sundarsi, that will alert my father of our whereabouts immediately. I wish to be away from him, for their sake. He would kill them both if we go now. She’s safest here, away from my father’s evil intent.”

He sighed, turning to Devasena. “I need to protect her, and the one coming to us soon. So think of this as me trying to be a good husband.” Devasena kept staring at him, her eyes cold, and she turned to leave. She paused, her back to him. “You need to go to Sundarsi for your wife, though. Her child needs to be born there, and you know that.” Bhalla huffed, nodding.

“I do know what they both need, but for now, let us stay here until the time is right.”

Bijjaladeva froze the minute Aarya set foot into the palace, his eyes bulging out as he stared at her pregnant body, tears filling his eyes as he turned to look at Bhalla, his lips wobbling as he raised a shaky finger up at his son. “What have you done?” He cried, horrified and disgusted. Bhalla stared coldly at his father as Aarya dutifully bent down slowly to seek Bijjaladeva’s blessings. “We seek your b-” “Silence, you witch!” Bijjaladeva thundered, glaring at her as he stepped back, looking at her and then at his son. “How could you do this, Bhalla? You wed and now she’s expecting a child?! A child from her is no less than a curse to us, to our kingdom!” Bhalla silently helped Aarya stand up again, rubbing her belly gently and supporting her back, fondly smiling at her, before turning to coldly stare at his father. “You will not speak ill of my child, Nanna, or of my wife.” Bhalla’s proud smirk peeked through when he called Aarya his wife, and Bijjaladeva fumed.

“Wife? Wife?! You trust this witch of a woman that much? You left your kingdom for months, letting it be governed by a slave, and you returned with this vile woman, swollen with a monster like her, and you expect me to be completely alright with it?!” Bijjaladeva glared at Aarya and pointed at her belly with disgust, spitting venom. “Are you even certain that this vile witch is carrying your-” A dagger materialised in Aarya’s hand as she pointed it at Bijjaladeva’s throat, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she pressed it in enough to draw out blood. Bhalla coldly glared at his father, a protective arm around Aarya. “Speak however you wish to about me, not a word against my child.” Aarya hissed, stepping forward as Bijjaladeva’s eyes shook, unable to look at her. “You’re old and my king’s father, so I’m bound to give you a little more respect than your worthless self deserves, but don’t mistake my manners and morals as weakness.” Bhalla calmly pulled her back, gently taking the dagger out of her hands as he smiled at her. “Aarya, you need to rest, come on. Go to our quarters, I’ll be with you shortly. I need to talk to my father.” Aarya nodded, following a few soldiers and maids and leaving, and Bhalla turned to glare at his father. “Aarya told you to say whatever you want about her, but if you even think of doing so again I’ll slit your throat myself, Nanna. She’s my wife, your daughter-in-law and the Empress of Mahishmati and Sundarsi.” Bhalla watched as his father’s face crumbled, a flurry of emotions passing through him as the old man choked and stumbled upon his words, tears running down his face. “You- all this, for a sleazy wo-”

“No. All this, for my woman. For my wife.”

Bhalla glared at him and stepped closer, towering over him as he slowly spoke. “I’m warning you for the last time, Nanna. Not a word against my queen; not a word against the mother of my child.” Bhalla turned and stalked off as his father was left behind, alone yet again. Bijjaladeva collapsed on the floor, weeping like a lost child, watching the emperor of Mahishmati with his family.

— — —

Aarya sat on her bed, sighing softly as she rubbed her swollen belly, shifting uncomfortably as she settled down. Being pregnant wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world, it’s honestly not talked about enough. The pains, the discomfort, the uneasy changes in the body. Aarya scowled, trying to find some sort of comfort when she heard a chuckle and turned to see her husband watching her, a smug smile on his face. She scowled harder, rolling her eyes. “Aarya, this is ridiculous, you know that. I still don’t know why you’re so mad at me.” Bhalla waltzed over, gently lifting her and fixing pillows under to make her comfortable exactly how she preferred, moving to sit behind her as he pushed her head into his lap, massaging her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I’m not mad at all, husband.” Aarya refused to sigh out in relief as he massaged her head, his hands slowly moving to her shoulders. “I just wish to know why we are here and not in Sundarsi.” She sat up and Bhalla smirked, nodding. “You’re not mad, are you?” “I wish to give birth in my kingdom and you brought me—”

“I brought you here only to show my father how happy you make me, my queen.” Bhalla interrupted gently, cradling her face. “I brought you here so that my wife would step foot in the palace, not just the Queen of Sundarsi. I brought the Empress of Mahishmati, the mother of my heir and my wife to Mahishmati. And I know I did no wrong.” Aarya stared at him, sighing softly as she moved closer to him, resting her back against his chest as he gently wrapped his arms around her, kissing her temple. She watched as he interlaced his fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over her fingers as he raised her arm to kiss her fingertips.

“I still wish to give birth in Sundarsi, Bhalla.” She whispered, looking at him softly. “I know, my queen, and you will. Because as much as the child inside is mine, I’m glad you have a bigger claim on the little one.” He kissed her temple again, leaning lower to kiss the place her neck met her shoulder, running a soothing hand over her side.

Aarya smiled softly at his affection, nuzzling into him. “Who do you think it will be? A prince or a princess?” Bhalla chuckled at her question, kissing her cheek. “A warrior, like my wife.” Aarya blushed and giggled, shaking her head. “Your wife hasn’t been a warrior ever since she’s gotten a child inside her, you know. That’s a long time.”

Bhalla softly stared at Aarya and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “This is also a battle you’re fighting, Aarya. Do you think I don’t notice the doubt and fear in your eyes every single second of the day? The worry, the insecurity, the troubled questions about yourself and this unborn little royal.”

He kissed her, pulling her closer as his hand ran over her back, making her sigh softly. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve had the pleasure of knowing my entire life, and I’m the son of Rajamata Sivagami. I’ve seen you govern your kingdom while on the run, care for me, yourself, our child, help Devasena rebuild her kingdom, not complain a single time about our conditions and push through all of it with the most graceful smile.” Bhalla caressed her face, resting his forehead against hers. “I’ve known women were the fiercest forces on this planet, but I only truly understood how strong after seeing you. I love everything about you, Aarya, and I’ll help in any way that I can to aid you in this internal battle of yours. And if I must take you to your kingdom, I shall.”

Aarya calmly stared at her husband through his monologue, a small smile playing on her lips as she realised just how much Bhalla changed in the last few months, a change even Devasena couldn’t believe despite seeing it with her own eyes.

Aarya kissed his forehead and smiled gently at him, cupping his face. “I’m so proud that my child has you as a father. Amarendra would be, as well.” Bhalla softened at her words, resting his head against hers as they simply basked in each other’s presence.

— — —

Aarya rested in Bhalla’s arms as they sailed to Sundarsi, and he gently rubbed her hips to soothe any of her pains. His father, who came to talk to him, saw him and fumed silently, turning and walking back to his room in the ship, pausing in front of the small statue of Durga Maa that was sailing along with them. “You… you made me bring that woman into our lives, haven’t you? Fine. I'll be the one to make sure she’s gone as well. Forever.”

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taglist open!

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#desiblr #telugu #tamil #jvas #jagadeka veerudu athiloka sundari #bhallaladeva x reader #bhallaladeva #bahubali x reader #bahubali #bahubali 1 #bahubali 2 #tollywood #rana x reader #rana

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bhalare-vichitram · 7 months

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Y/n: You’re such a dumbass (affectionate).

Bhalla: Aww, you’re such a whore (complimentary).

Bahu: How are you talking like that in real life?

Bhalla: Witchcraft (derogatory).

#incorrect quotes #self insert #telugu #tollywood #x reader #yn #y/n #bahubali #incorrect bahubali quotes #bhallaladeva #bhallaladeva x reader #bhalla

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mellaga-karagani · 7 months

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Bhallaladeva《Bahubali》Romance Dialogue Set

Requests are open, and my asks and inbox are always open!

“I wanted to feel nothing whenever I saw you, but you looked at me in the eyes, and I felt everything at once.”

“I didn’t want to fall in love, not at all, but at some point, you smiled, and, holy shit, I blew it.”

“You make me feel. You make me feel, and I don’t like it, I want it to stop. But it never does. Every time I see you, it gets bigger and endless.”

“Because you’re important to me, you piece of shit, and I love you so much,”

“Thank you for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war.”

☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆○☆

Taglist: @allari-ammayi, @vellipo-mellaga

Note: Requests are open, I write mostly for telugu characters, but I also accept general Indian!!

#x reader #yn #y/n #desi tumblr #desiblr #desi #tollywood #telugu #bahubali #bhallaladeva #dialogue prompt #prompt #dialogue

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edensrose · 2 years

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BHALLALADEVA X READER AND BAHUBALI X READER EXISTS

I HAVE NO IDEA WHO OR WHAT THAT IS

#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐬 ៸៸ social life does not exist ❜‧₊

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yugantaram · 4 years

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Name: Al/Vidhur Vrika/thelonewolfwrites

Fic/Artwork/Podfic/Gifset: Fic

Fandoms : The Walking Dead (TV Show) , Baahubali (The Movies and The Lost Legends Series)

Creation Idea #1: Baahubali Canon-Era Eid Fic, Summary - Baahuabli is king and Queen Devasena wants him to truly join in with the people's festivities. For the small but significant Muslim community of Mahishmati, she decides to organize an inftaar party during Ramadan. Bhalla wants to help! (part of the vadinamma series)

Creation Idea #2: The Walking Dead, Summary - The reader is a young medic at Rick's Prison Camp and has taken a keen interest in Daryl Dixon, who is a loner. The magnetic tracker is an introvert and doesn't do 'small talk', will the reader's love be able to crack the shell of a man?

Creation Idea #3: Baahubali Reincarnation AU, Pārijāta Series, Summary - Set in the Baahubali Modern AU, Jai (Baahu) has an inscrutable relationship with his 'mardalu' - Devi, this fic series will explore how the reincarnated figures find themselves gravitating towards one another.

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allari-ammayi · 8 months

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

Wife | Pt.2 《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! OC☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was Bhalla hiding under there?

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

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

On his mighty grand bed, lay Bhalladeva.

The king.

The warrior.

The ruler.

Her husband.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happened to the king?

And another one.

Why did he need her to stay with him?

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

Why her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Show him a motherly kind of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes the simplest answers give the most effective results.

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

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

Simple.

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

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

This thought caused Pooja to stop and think.

True.

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

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

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

Was it a medical condition?

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

And if so, what exactly was that traumatic past?

Why did Bhalla need someone her to calm him down?

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

And the most curious.

What lay behind the velvet cloth?

What was it a portrait of?

Or rather, who was it of?

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 @vijayasena

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

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allari-ammayi · 8 months

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Wife | Pt.2 《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! Reader☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What was Bhalla hiding under there?

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

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

On his mighty grand bed, lay Bhalladeva.

The king.

The warrior.

The ruler.

Her husband.

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

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

Y/n gasped at the helpless form of the king and brought her hands to her lips.

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

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

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

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

Y/n gulped and quickly looked around while Bhalla continued breathing rapidly in a feverish way.

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

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

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

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

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

“But-”

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

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

Bhalla pat the empty space next to him on the bed, confusing Y/n.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n looked at the fallen ghoblet and back at Bhalla, misreading his calmness for anger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This wasn’t love, Y/n told herself, when another question popped up.

What happened to the king?

And another one.

Why did he need her to stay with him?

And another one, the one Y/n was most curious about.

Why her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Show him a motherly kind of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sometimes the simplest answers give the most effective results.

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

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

Simple.

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

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

This thought caused Y/n to stop and think.

True.

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

This unanswered questions left Y/n thinking about all the other unanswered questions.

Such as why was he the way he was when Y/n first entered the room?

Was it a medical condition?

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

And if so, what exactly was that traumatic past?

Why did Bhalla need someone her to calm him down?

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

And the most curious.

What lay behind the velvet cloth?

What was it a portrait of?

Or rather, who was it of?

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》 @vijayasena

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

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allari-ammayi · 8 months

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┌───────── ∘°❉°∘ ─────────┐

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨

𝐘/𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

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

└───────── °∘❉∘° ─────────┘

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄!! 》 All of my fics will be written in two versions. One of the versions will be with a Fem! Reader and the other will be written with a female OC! (Both versions will be the same except for the MC. You can read either, depending on which one you prefer!)

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝/𝐊𝐞𝐲 》

𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 》 ☁️

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 》 ☔️

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 》 🌸

𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 》 🐈‍⬛️

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𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 》 💚

𝟐𝐤> 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 》 🍒

𝟐𝐤 - 𝟔𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 》 🍎

𝟔𝐤< 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 》 🍍

𝐁𝐚𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐢

╰┈➤ ❝ Wife | Pt. 1 《 Bharya 》 {B. Deva} ❞ 🌸💛🍒

╰┈➤ ❝ Wife | Pt. 2 《 Bharya 》 {B. Deva} ❞ 🌸💛🍒

╰┈➤ ❝ Wife | Pt. 3 《 Bharya 》 {B. Deva} ❞ 🌸💛🍒 ♧COMING SOON♧

𝐁𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐥𝐚 𝐍𝐚𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐤

╰┈➤ ❝ Rain | Pt. 1 《 Varsham 》 {D. Shekar} ❞☁️💛🍎

╰┈➤ ❝ Rain | Pt. 2 《 Varsham 》 {D. Shekar} ❞☁️💛🍎 ♧COMING SOON♧

𝐑𝐑𝐑

╰┈➤ ❝ Understanding 《 Artham Cesukundam 》 {A. Sitarama Raju}❞💛🍎 ♧COMING SOON♧

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐝𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐫𝐚

╰┈➤ ❝ Not-So-Ordinary 《 Sadharana Kadu 》 {K. Bhairava}❞💛🍎 ♧COMING SOON♧

Last Updated: 09. 09. 23

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sada-siva-sanyaasi · 1 year

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jagadeka veerudu athiloka sundari - part ten

Masterlist

(A/N- it's been a long long looooong time eh? apologies for the delay, I just had a massive brain block. so this one's for you! also happy new year guys, all the love to you.

~juhi <3)

Aarya woke up feeling refreshed, her heart light surprisingly. She knew she was surrounded by the enemy force who was waiting for her to make the wrong move but the only thing she could focus on was the fact that she was getting married to a man she thought she hated until a few days ago, and suddenly she couldn’t imagine her life without. Her akandas glowed a dull grey as the sunlight fell on them, and she frowned as she picked them up. “That doesn’t seem right.” She murmured as the dull grey enveloped her hand, spreading chills to every part of her that they touched.

She shrugged as she set them down and freshened up, walking out of her room.

The servants greeted her with immense respect, their eyes shining with something akin to fear and disbelief as she strolled past them all. “Where’s Bhalla?” She turned and asked, making one of the servants step away uneasily. “Er, His Majesty is still in his room. But we advise you not-” “I’ll get him out then, thank you.”

Aarya waltzed to Bhalla’s room, knocking twice and walking in after she heard no response. She looked around, frowning when she didn’t spot him. “Bhalla!” She called out, her frown deepening as she saw no sign of him. She exhaled, twisting the ring on her finger when a voice rang in the room, “At your service.”

Aarya’s breath hitched, turning around as she saw Bhalla step out of his washroom, hair wet and his loincloth clinging around his waist loosely. Steam came off his body, making him suddenly look all the more like a God. Her face flushed violently as she took a step back, turning away when her knee hit a table, making her buckle. Bhalla surged forward, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her as he smirked down at her. “Instead of falling because of things, fall for me next time, will you?”

She just rolled her eyes, trying to stop the blood rushing to her cheeks as he stepped closer to her. “You have to- oh!” She slipped again as her knees gave out because of the bed behind her and she fell onto it, looking up as Bhalla placed both his arms on either side of her. Her eyes widened and he leaned in to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, his eyes dropping to her lips. “Your face is red, you’re sweating in my room and it’s generally cold this time of the year in Mahishmati. Is this because of me?”

“No,” Aarya huffed, her eyes falling shut as Bhalla nuzzled his head into the crook of her neck, his warm breath tickling her. “I’m still not used to your kingdom. Sundarsi is so much colder than here, in case you haven’t noticed.” “Is that so?” He murmured into her skin, tracing his fingers across her waist and revelling in her shivers. “I haven’t noticed, really. I was focused… elsewhere.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Bhalla looked up for a moment, his eyes twinkling as they raked over her hungrily. “I have you on my bed now without flattering you, Aarya. Do you want me to start flattery now?” His hand on Aarya’s bare back slipped up, toying with the strings of her blouse while Aarya tried in vain to push him away. “Behave yourself, will you? This isn’t right.”

“You’re mine, and this is something everyone knows now. If people question my actions and affections I’ll serve their heads to you on a golden platter.” A smile crept on her face, still trying to get distance between both of them. “Although,” Bhalla pulled away, a smirk on his face when Aarya tried to fight the frown off her face. “I like listening to you, and you told me to behave.”

He got off the bed and pulled her to her feet, smirking at her visible anger. “What brings you over to my room? Is there anything not right with the services? I could-” “No, it’s none of that,” Aarya interrupted him, her eyes darting around his room as she walked around, all of her interest suddenly on the intricate works on the walls. “I was just… I wanted to see you and your kingdom, and who better to show me the place than you?”

Bhalla’s face softened as he observed her, a smile making its way onto his face as he waltzed over to her. “You needn’t ask, I’ll show you my kingdom. Come, get ready and I’ll show you everything.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and she smiled, brushing past him to leave his room.

His eyes locked on the akanda she left by his bedside, frowning at its dull grey glow as he picked it up, studying it. “Kattappa!” The general walked in, bowing to Bhalla who continued to study the stone. “I want you to do something for me.”

— — —

Bhalla waited in the stables, pacing around as he waited for Aarya to arrive, when Kattappa approached him with a frown. “Something is wrong in Sundarsi, Your Majesty. And it seems all the priests of their temples are worried about it, because whatever is happening over there, it’s not their doing. Either that, or someone is forcing an insider to do something.”

Bhalla’s frown deepened as he watched Kattappa put out the akandas, whose glow got weaker, flickering dark grey. “When a Sundarsi citizen uses their stones, they glow as white as the moon. Sometimes, the glow could change, but they never felt cool to touch when being used, or turned grey. It has started since their queen has come here, and now their general wants her back in Sundarsi.”

“What’s going on?”

The men looked up, watching Aarya walk in with a frown on her face. “Is there something wrong, Bhalla?” He shook his head, stepping forward and holding his hand out for her to take. He spared Kattappa a final glance as he shoved the stones out of her view while Bhalla helped Aarya onto a horse.

“Come now, let me show you my world.”

— — —

Hushed whispers echoed in the halls as Aarya swatted Bhalla’s wandering hands away, glaring fleetingly at him while he rolled his eyes, following her. “It was supposed to be a tour around your kingdom, Bhalla, not an opportunity for you to-” “I know, my queen. You don’t have to scold me so much.” He stared at her strutting figure and scoffed silently, his glare shifting to the soldiers guarding the halls. “Even my mother didn’t scold me the way you always do.”

“Well then, you better get used to this, my king. You’ll get an earful daily if you don’t mend your ways after we wed.” Bhalla smirked, opening his mouth when Aarya yelled out in shock, her bracelet snapping off and falling. The akanda at the very centre shattered in the air as the pieces fell to the ground, black as the night. Aarya held her wrist, wincing as Bhalla rushed to her, cradling her hand delicately in his while they stared at the broken stone in concern.

“This- this has never happened before,” Aarya mumbled, her eyes frantic as they looked to Bhalla, “Our stones are the strongest, this is not supposed to happen, Bhalla, what’s going on? This is a very bad omen, have I gone wrong anywhere?”

He shushed her, bringing her closer while Kattappa ran into the hall, eyes wide. “Your Majesties, please follow me.” They followed him as they all entered the courtroom, seeing the officials of Sundarsi present too.

Anjasi and Sadhana bowed, their frowns evident as they made way for the head priest to approach Aarya. “Your Majesty, there’s someone here to see you.” He said gravely, guiding Aarya and Bhalla to the palace doors. “Guruji, what’s happening? The akandas, they’re not supposed to-”

“Perhaps,” He sighed, staring at the man who walked through the doors of Bhalla’s palace, “he is your answer.”

Aarya turned, her face turning pale as she stared, the man kneeling down in front of her. Bhalla observed as the man kneeling took Aarya’s hand in his, bringing it to his forehead while the others filled the hall. Anjasi and Sadhana watched him with uncertainty, their grip on their weapons tight while Aarya pulled her hand away, stepping back.

“I apologise for keeping you waiting all these years, Your Majesty,” Rudra said, looking up at Aarya as though her eyes held all the answers in the universe. “But now, I have returned to make you mine again.”

------

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allari-ammayi · 7 months

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Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

The Interesting Perspective

Synopsis: In the heart of Hyderabad, Y/n tends to her grandmother's antique store, a time capsule hiding stories of the past. Her routine is disrupted when she joins friends to watch the movie "Baahubali," a decision that will ignite her own remarkable adventure into the world of cinema and her unique perspective on its characters.

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

This charming establishment, steeped in memories and whispers of days long gone, held a unique place in the heart of the city.

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

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

As the door swung open, a cloud of dust danced through the air, catching the soft glow of the morning light. Y/n took a moment to inhale the musty scent of history and nostalgia before she proceeded with her daily ritual. The shop might have been old and dusty, but it held a charm that was impossible to replicate.

Y/n's routine was as predictable as the sunrise. She gingerly dusted off the display cabinets, each one containing a piece of history that had been carefully preserved for generations. The shop's antique treasures were like whispers from the past, and Y/n was their devoted custodian.

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

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

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

Each day, she became a part of the history she protected, finding solace in the forgotten memories of a time when life moved at a different pace.

Hyderabad's bustling streets might have raced ahead, but within the aged walls of the antique store, time stood still.

Y/n's devotion to her grandmother's legacy was a testament to the enduring power of nostalgia, the allure of history, and the beauty of finding solace in a world that often rushed past unnoticed.

In her hands, the shop thrived, a living testament to the past, and a hidden gem waiting for those who dared to wander off the beaten path.

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

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

It was as if a fever had taken hold of the nation, and fans had gone berserk over this cinematic marvel. People had lost their minds, raving about the epic storytelling and jaw-dropping visuals that this movie promised. Y/n, ever the outlier in her circle, hadn't quite fathomed the craze.

Her friends, captivated by the Baahubali frenzy, hadn't understood how she remained immune to its charm. They had pestered her relentlessly, urging her to give it a chance. Perhaps, they had thought, Y/n might just find a new love in the world of cinema.

“Come on, Y/n!!”

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

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

Y/n grimaced, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t know, guys…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to leave the store unattended for one night,” Finally, Y/n had relented, agreeing to accompany her friends to the movie theatre. She had been willing to set aside her literary pursuits for an evening if only to unravel the mystery of what had driven the entire nation into a state of euphoria.

The three girls immediately began rejoicing, pulling the laughing Y/n into a group hug as they began jumping and hopping from the excitement.

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

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

In that darkened cinema hall, Y/n's perspective had shifted. She had realized that storytelling had many forms, and cinema possessed a unique power to transport its audience to worlds beyond imagination.

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

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

Baahubali had bridged the gap between her world of books and the silver screen, leaving her eager to explore more cinematic adventures in the future.

Before her inexplicable journey into the world of "Baahubali," Y/n had held a unique perspective on the characters that had gripped the hearts and minds of her fellow countrymen.

While she hadn't quite fit the mold of a dedicated movie enthusiast like most people around her, she had, in a moment of curiosity, watched "Baahubali." To her own surprise, she had found herself drawn into the intricate tapestry of the story.

Y/n possessed a deep respect for Bahubali, the central character of the epic saga. His qualities of honour, bravery, and selflessness resonated with her, transcending the medium of cinema and touching her heart on a profound level.

In a world where heroes had often appeared larger than life, Bahubali had been a shining example of the qualities Y/n had admired most in people.

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

Beneath the layers of villainy and treachery, she had glimpsed a tragic figure, consumed by ambition and insecurity, his actions driven by a profound sense of inadequacy.

Yet, Y/n's musings on the characters of "Baahubali" had been mere echoes of her private thoughts, shared with no one but the pages of her diary. Little had she known that her understanding of these characters would soon be put to the test, as destiny had had a mysterious plan in store for her.

What set Y/n apart was her distinct perspective on Bhallaladeva. While the general populace had harboured disdain for the character, she had possessed a unique and empathetic viewpoint. Y/n had peered beneath the layers of cruelty and ambition, recognizing the tragic figure that Bhallaladeva had truly been.

In her eyes, Bhallaladeva hadn't been just a villain; he had been a product of his environment, a victim of his father's ruthless influence. Y/n believed that if he had grown up in a different setting, devoid of the poisonous presence of his father, he could have evolved into a different, more compassionate person.

Her perspective hadn't been one of hatred but rather of profound pity for a man caught in the web of his own circumstances, trapped by his ambitions and the expectations thrust upon him.

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

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

“More to him? He’s a murderer, Y/n! He killed his own brother, how can you pity someone like him!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This unique view of Bhallaladeva set Y/n apart from the mainstream sentiment surrounding the character. While the world had seen him as a power-hungry antagonist, she had seen a soul tainted by circumstances beyond his control.

It had been a perspective that had spoken to Y/n's deep sense of empathy, a quality that would soon have come to define her extraordinary journey into the world of "Baahubali," where her understanding of these characters would have been put to the ultimate test.

Y/n's feelings toward the characters of "Baahubali" had been as varied and nuanced as the tapestry of the epic saga itself. Each character had carved a distinct niche in her heart, drawing forth a range of emotions and reflections.

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

The sick thoughts and twisted desires he had sown in Bhallaladeva’s mind for his own greed had been inexcusable. In her eyes, Bijjaladeva had represented the darkest facets of human nature, a character that was driven solely by avarice and manipulation.

Amarendra Bahubali, on the other hand, had been a beacon of heroism and selflessness in her eyes. Y/n had applauded his unwavering commitment to honour, bravery, and the welfare of his people.

His actions had resonated with her deeply, and she hadn't been able to help but admire a character who had epitomized the very qualities she had held in high regard.

Bhallaladeva, despite his villainous role in the story, had stirred not hatred but pity within Y/n's heart. She had recognized that his fate had been largely determined by circumstances beyond his control. Had he grown up in a different environment, free from the poisonous influence of his father, he might have become a different, more compassionate person.

Y/n's perspective on Bhallaladeva is a testament to her empathetic nature, seeing the tragedy beneath the layers of ambition and cruelty.

Kattappa, the loyal and dedicated warrior, had earned her profound respect. His unwavering loyalty to the throne and his moral dilemma in carrying out a fateful act had left a lasting impression on her.

Y/n had admired the strength of character that had allowed him to grapple with the complexities of his duty and conscience.

Sivagami, the formidable and fearless queen, had been to Y/n a symbol of empowerment and feminism. Her unyielding spirit, leadership qualities, and determination in the face of adversity resonated deeply with Y/n's own values.

Sivagami, in Y/n's eyes, had been a slay queen of her time, a woman who had embodied the strength and resilience required to lead.

Devasena, with her grace, combat abilities, and unwavering commitment to justice, had commanded Y/n's respect. Her multifaceted character had spoken to the importance of balance and integrity. Y/n had admired Devasena’s ability to wield both grace and strength in her pursuit of righteousness.

As Y/n's feelings and understanding of these characters had swirled within her, little had she known that her unique perspective on the world of "Baahubali" would soon become her guiding light in an unexpected journey, where her connection to these characters would have been put to the ultimate test.

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

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

Her essay had become a labour of love, a testament to her unique perspective on these iconic figures.

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

While her admiration for Bahubali had been evident, it had been her pity for Bhallaladeva that had stood out.

Y/n's words on paper echoed her empathy for a character whose life had seemed marred by circumstances and poisoned by influences beyond his control. Her essay had been a tribute to her belief in the complex interplay of nature and nurture, and how it had sculpted these two diametrically opposed brothers.

Y/n's essay not only allowed her to express her thoughts but also served as a testament to her deep understanding of the characters' nuances.

Little had she known that her writings would soon become more than just words on a page, as destiny had had a mysterious plan in store, ready to transport her into the world of "Baahubali" and test her convictions in ways she could never have imagined.

But for now, as Y/n had gone about her ordinary life in Hyderabad, these reflections on a fictional world had remained just that – reflections.

The world of "Baahubali" had existed solely on the silver screen, a place where storytelling had met grandeur, and the characters had danced through the imagination of countless admirers.

Y/n, the silent observer hadn't foreseen the incredible journey that had awaited her, one that would have transformed her passive admiration into an unexpected and extraordinary adventure beyond the realm of her wildest dreams.

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

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

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allari-ammayi · 8 months

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Wife | Pt.1《Bharya》B. Deva

☆Bhallaladeva x Fem! OC☆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bhalla was not there.

She waited an hour.

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

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

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

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

But it was never the case.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He doesn’t even lust after us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Pooja never gave up hope.

Or at least not till the third month.

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

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

Was it even worth waiting anymore?

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

Pooja’s heart jumped and butterflies attacked her stomach.

Could it be..?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 》

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

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sada-siva-sanyaasi · 1 year

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jagadeka veerudu, athiloka sundari - part eleven

masterlist

(a/n- hello there! decided to go with something @auranightangle suggested, so this is the face of Rudra. probably making it harder for you to decide who Aarya should end up with, but it's alright. I like watching y'all scream in the comments. ciao then!

~juhi <3)

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He didn’t notice the quiet whispers in the halls, or the flickering fires lighting his palace. He didn’t notice his father’s outrageous screams or Kattappa’s frown. He didn’t notice the restless people of Sundarsi discussing what should be done. But he noticed Aarya’s stoic but pale face, her reluctance to look up and her fingers twitching at her sides as she got bombarded by every voice, demanding answers.

“Aarya will not speak to anyone right now,” Bhalla’s voice boomed over every other voice and instantly made them shut up. He walked over to Aarya, carelessly brushing past Rudra and took her hand into his, rubbing soothing patterns. She exhaled, closing her eyes as he gently brushed her hair out of her face. “Would you like me to take you to your room? It’s been a long day, you must be exhausted.”

“But Bhalla-” “Not now, Nanna.” Bhalla firmly said, casting his father a glare as Aarya nodded slowly, moving closer to him. Bhalla turned to Kattappa and nodded wordlessly, making the old general bow and escort Anjasi, Sadhana and Sundarsi’s head priest away. As Bhalla and Aarya began to leave, Rudra’s voice made them pause. “I’ll come along, Your Majesty.”

Bhalla’s face hardened and he turned, but Aarya said, “No, you will not. Bhalla, let’s go.” Rudra’s face crumpled behind them as they left, the flickering lights slowly going out entirely. He turned to see Bijjaladeva staring at him with a sneer, who then turned to one of the guards and said, “Give him a room. We still need to discuss this later on.”

He watched Rudra leave and his sneer returned, closing his eyes as the fire came back to life in the torches.

— —

Aarya rested her face in her hands, groaning as Bhalla sat next to her. “What is going on? The stones, now Rudra back, this is all so confusing and scary, Bhalla. I was told he was dead, and now he’s standing in front of me.” Bhalla’s eyes softened as he realised she was avoiding Rudra’s proclamation of winning her, and turned her face towards him, a smirk on his face.

“This is a very stupid joke, I’m sure he’s not even Rudra. That impostor will be punished, don’t-” “Oh but he is, Bhalla. That man is Rudra.” Aarya stood up from her place, pacing around her room as he watched. “How do you know?” She sighed, turning to him with an almost guilty look in her eyes. “Rudra is the only one who raises my hand to his forehead, and he only did so when we used to meet secretly. No one touched me, and so he did that in our privacy.”

Bhalla stood up as well, towering over her as she avoided his eyes.”Look at me,” she slowly looked up, feeling his warm eyes on her face. “If you wish to go back to him,” Aarya opened her mouth but he raised his hand, stopping her. “I will not let you go easily, Aarya. I’ll fight you to keep you with me, and him too. I’ll fight your Mahadev if I have to, my name is not Bhallaladeva for no reason.”

Aarya smiled, bringing her hand up to cradle his cheek. “You won’t have to fight anyone anymore, Bhalla.” He leaned into her touch, closing his eyes as his heart sped up at her words. “You won, alright? You won me over, and nothing will make me leave you. I’m all yours.”

Bhalla’s eyes shot open as he stared down at her, his heart racing at her admission. “You’re all mine?” She nodded, her face burning as he pulled her closer to him. “I’m all yours, in this life and the next.”

“Say that again.”

Thoughts left Aarya’s mind when he pulled her face towards his, straight into a seering kiss. Her knees gave away as he hooked his arms under her legs, carrying her to her bed without breaking the kiss. Bhalla set her down gently, pulling away and smirking when she chased after him, eyes closed and breathing heavily.

“You didn’t say it again, Aarya.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she huffed slightly as his smirk widened. “I’m all yours, Bhalla.” His smirk softened and he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, straightening. “We will solve this problem, and get married too. I can’t wait to call you my queen. Now sleep, you must be tired.”

He turned to leave when Aarya grabbed his hand, her eyes fluttering shut already. “Stay for a while, please. I want you close.” He wordlessly nodded, a small smile on his face as he sat next to her on the bed, caressing her cheek fondly as she drifted off peacefully.

Bhalla studied her features for a little longer, exhaling as he walked out and shut the door behind him, face grim. “Is she asleep?” The voice made him snap out of his thoughts and he looked up, seeing Rudra in front of him. He strolled over to Bhalla, eyes on his hands that were still on the door. Bhalla nodded, his eyes hardening as both of them sized each other up.

“You’re her fiancé, aren’t you? I’m surprised she has agreed to wed you.” Bhalla sighed to himself, straightening as he towered over the soldier. “I’m surprised you thought she would still wait for you.” Aarya had in fact, waited. Bhalla guessed Rudra didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, I’m completely sure she waited. I know my princess very well, Your Majesty.”

Rudra knew. It didn’t matter though.

“Maybe your princess waited for you, but not my queen.” Rudra’s face fell before he got stoic again, stepping forward. “As long as it was her who chose, and you weren’t chosen for her. But you should know, her mind changes very quickly. Will you ever be enough? You, who is no different from the beasts her Mahadev kills without mercy.”

Rudra turned to leave when Bhalla spoke up. “You might be right, but she won’t let me die in his hands. I thought you knew better, Rudra; don’t you know how fiercely protective she is of the ones she loves? Parvati also takes the form of Durga and Kali when she sees fit.” He patted Rudra’s shoulder and smirked, leaning forward.

“Underestimate me and my will to kill for her all you want, but don’t disregard her loyalty for me. Or wait, maybe you’ll see it for yourself.”

Rudra glared as Bhalla left, his hands twitching at his sides.

— —

“So,” Bijjaladeva began, a sneer on his face as Aarya sat in front of him, Bhalla to her side. All the priests of Sundarsi and Mahishmati were present too, charts and horoscopes lined around, waiting, while Kattappa and Sadhana stood guard close to their king and queen. “Now that her former lover is back, do we still have to go about with this charade?” Bhalla scowled, his grip on his sword tightening while Aarya rolled her eyes.

“We all know you hate me, stop trying to put out your ideas like they matter here. I’m going to wed him, whether you like it or not.”

The doors opened and Rudra walked in, eyes on Aarya as he bowed to her. The head priest of Sundarsi cleared his throat, carefully regarding Rudra once before he turned to Aarya. “Your Majesty, according to your charts, there is no better day for you to wed than the day after tomorrow. And if not then, you can’t wed for another year. So I suggest you-” “Then we will do it the day after tomorrow.” Bhalla said, looking at Aarya who nodded with a smile. “We don’t wish to wait.”

Rudra watched the processions as the plans went on, his eyes on Aarya as she animatedly took part in everything, her enthusiasm rubbing off on everyone around her. His eyes shifted to Bhalla, Rudra’s chest tightening uncomfortably as he saw him gaze at her.

Aarya would turn and look at Bhalla, her smile turning shy as she would look away, their fingers touching fleetingly out of everyone’s sight and glances more than just lingering. Rudra’s face remained the same as he stepped away from Aarya, eyes staying on her for a second before he turned to leave the room. His footsteps echoed in the halls as he strode past everyone, tears burning in his eyes when a voice called out to him.

“You don’t wish for them to get married, do you?” Bijjaladeva’s words made him freeze in his place, unmoving while the old man caught up to him. “It’s visible in your eyes, you actually have returned to make her yours again. So why aren’t you-”

“Because I might be hers, as I have always been, but her heart belongs to your son. And as much as it pains me, I love her too much to ever take her away from what makes her happy.” Bijjaladeva rested his hand on Rudra’s shoulder, tutting sympathetically. “You’re a good man, Rudra,” he cooed gently, “and as much as I hate that vile woman, she deserves better than my son. You would protect her from everything, not just as her love but as a soldier too, but I can’t say the same for my son. He has his brother, his nephew and mother killed, his sister-in-law jailed and tortured ruthlessly for going against him. Should Aarya ever disagree with him, what’s to say he won’t do that again?”

His grip on Rudra’s shoulder tightened as he inched closer, voice low. “You love her and she loves him, but Bhalla may not later on. Protect her, Rudra. Do whatever you can to save your queen, and I’ll help you with it. You shall thank me later on, believe me.” Rudra stayed quiet, mulling over his words as the old man watched him, mouth twitching into a smirk.

— —

Bhalla and Aarya sat next to each other, watching the sunset when Anjasi arrived, bowing. “Your Majesty, you need to leave to your quarters, the wedding preparations require you to stay away from the king till the day of your wedding.” Aarya smiled gently at Bhalla and stood up, walking away from him. As he watched her retreating figure, a frown took over his face, and he turned to Kattappa. “Did you tell Nanna about Rudra being the one Aarya was in love with?” He shook his head, making Bhalla’s frown deepen.

“Find out what Nanna is up to, I don’t like where this is headed.”

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allari-ammayi · 7 months

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Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

The Snarky Prince

Synopsis: An esteemed and grand Pooja is held in Mahismati which only the highest and greatest of the kingdom can attend. Y/n is invited to this grand event, and being oblivious to the mannerisms and traditions, struggles to navigate through the Pooja's rituals, earning her endless teasing and snarky remarks from the elder prince, much to her displeasure. Following the Pooja, Y/n reencounters a face from her time, a separate mystery of a Prince's soft spot opens up and some bad news is broken to Y/n.

3.8k Words

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The chapter opens during a private Pooja held by the royal family, attended only by very high-ranking individuals and royal council members.

Y/N, now more accustomed to the palace's daily routines, was invited to this exclusive event, marking her gradual integration into the kingdom's inner circles.

As Y/N entered the grand chamber where the Pooja was taking place, led by servants, she was immediately struck by its opulence and the air of reverence that surrounded the ceremony.

The room was adorned with intricate decorations, and the fragrance of incense filled the air. She took a moment to observe the guests, many of whom were adorned in richly embroidered attire, and she realised the importance of adhering to the kingdom's customs and traditions.

The Pooja began, and Y/N found herself seated in close proximity to the princes. As she was led to her designated spot, she momentarily hesitated, not quite sure whether to sit on the floor or in one of the grand chairs alongside Bhallaladeva and Bahubali. Her uncertainty did not go unnoticed by the palace attendees, who exchanged knowing glances.

Bhallaladeva, ever the observer, couldn't resist seizing the opportunity for a snarky comment. With a smirk, he leaned towards Y/N and whispered,

"You know, in Mahishmati, we usually sit on chairs like civilized people, not on the floor like monkeys." He emphasized his playful nickname for her, 'monkey,' which had been coined during her fruit-gathering escapade.

Y/N, refusing to let Bhalla's teasing go unanswered, sent him a sidelong glance and retorted just as quietly,

"Well, Your Highness, it's not every day I get to feel like a monkey in a palace. But I suppose I can give the chair a try." With that, she smoothly settled into the grand chair, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

Bhallaladeva chuckled softly, clearly enjoying their banter.

"Ah, I see you're willing to adapt, even if it means leaving behind your primitive ways." Y/N couldn't resist a playful smile.

"Well, I'm nothing if not adaptable, Your Highness. I've even learned to tolerate the company of royal brats." Bhallaladeva rolled his eyes at her response.

“Watch your tongue, Monkey.” He warned, but Y/n took no word.

"Well, I must admit, the palace furniture does tend to be more comfortable than tree branches.” Y/N leaned back in the chair, smirking. "You should try it sometime, Your Highness. It's good for building character." It took Bhallaladeva a few seconds of thought about Y/n’s words before he gasped, his eyes wide as he gaped at her smirking face.

“Monkey.” He bitterly said, rolling his eyes.

The Pooja continued, and as the rituals unfolded, Bhallaladeva couldn't resist another opportunity.

"You know, Monkey, you might learn a thing or two about our customs if you paid more attention and less attention to me." Y/N glared at him and his audacity.

"Oh, I've been paying attention, Your Royal Snarkiness. Besides, at least I’m not the one picking a fight every time I see you. Anyway, I've learned that you enjoy making snide remarks almost as much as I do." Bhallaladeva raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so? Perhaps we have more in common than I thought."

“Maybe that, but not holding such grand ceremonies, we don’t.” Y/n motioned around the large event with her eyes.

“You don’t hold grand Poojas where you come from?” Bhallaladeva poked at Y/n with his suggestive words.

"You know, back in my kingdom, we didn't have grand ceremonies to worship deities- well, sometimes, but not as often as Mahismati. We just used smartphones and emojis." Bhallaladeva raised an eyebrow, clearly perplexed.

"Smart... what?" Y/N leaned closer, her tone conspiratorial.

"Oh, it's a magical device that lets you talk to people across the world without leaving your throne. You'd probably love it, except there's no room for grand chairs on Twitter."

Y/n was internally cackling at herself for her superior humour but grimaced at how Bhallaladeva wouldn’t understand her joke. But oh well, she enjoyed it enough for the both of them.

The prince let out a low, amused chuckle.

"I doubt I'd find such a 'device' of any use, but it seems to have made you quite the expert in... what did you call it? Emojis?"

Y/N grinned mischievously.

"Yes, indeed. I can say more with a single emoji than you can with a royal decree." Bhallaladeva's lips twitched with amusement.

"Is that so? Well then, show me." With a sly wink, Y/N mimicked an exaggerated emoji face, complete with wide eyes and a cheeky grin.

"There you go, Your Highness. That's the 'I'm thoroughly entertained by your snark' emoji. In a sarcastic way, of course."

Bhallaladeva couldn't help but laugh outright, earning a few disapproving glances from the other attendees.

"You certainly are a unique guest, Monkey."

As the Pooja continued, their banter intensified, each comment designed to one-up the other's wit.

Bhallaladeva, with a smirk, leaned in and whispered,

"You know, you're quite audacious for an outsider and a Monkey, sitting in my presence." Y/N shot back with a sly grin,

"Audacious? Well, you should be flattered, Your Highness. Not everyone gets to enjoy the company of someone as charmingly audacious as me." Bhallaladeva raised an eyebrow.

"Charming, you say? I thought I was dealing with a wild monkey." Y/N laughed hollowly.

"Wild monkeys can be charming too, especially when they outsmart the royals."

Their whispered exchange didn't go unnoticed by some of the other attendees, who were trying their best to stifle their laughter. Y/N and Bhallaladeva's verbal sparring had become something of a spectacle at the palace gatherings, and the onlookers eagerly awaited each new exchange.

As the Pooja continued, their banter grew more spirited, each comment a subtle challenge to the other's wit. Despite the insults and snark, there was an undeniable chemistry between them, a connection that seemed to deepen with each exchange.

The exchange elicited stifled chuckles from those nearby, who were undoubtedly entertained by the banter between the foreign newcomer and the prince. It was a lighthearted moment that hinted at a budding camaraderie, albeit one characterized by playful teasing and snarky comebacks.

During the Pooja, Y/N couldn't help but notice that the priest conducting the ceremony had an unusually high-pitched voice that, on that particular day, seemed almost comically exaggerated. It was as if his voice belonged in a cartoon rather than a royal ceremony.

As the priest continued with his high-pitched chants, a sudden bout of laughter threatened to escape Y/N. She struggled to stifle it, biting her lip to hold back the mirth that bubbled within her. But her valiant efforts were in vain, and a snort of suppressed laughter emerged, much to her chagrin.

Bhallaladeva, ever the vigilant observer, caught wind of her snort, as did the others gathered for the Pooja. A knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips, though he kept his amusement well hidden, choosing instead to glance away with a subtle shake of his head.

The palace staff, having witnessed this incident, shared a knowing look. It was becoming increasingly evident to Bhallaladeva that Y/N needed guidance in navigating the nuances of royal decorum and etiquette to better assimilate into Mahishmati's high society.

As Y/N was summoned by the priest to approach the sacred fire pit for a ritual, the atmosphere grew tense with anticipation. Her steps, however, were far from the graceful, deliberate movements expected in such a solemn ceremony. Instead, she sauntered casually, her sari's end swaying as she strolled, completely unaware of the formality required.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Y/n asked, taking a seat next to the fire.

Seated by the sacred fire pit, Y/N greeted the royal priest in an unintentionally informal manner, failing to use the specific, customary formal greeting meant for such occasions. Her actions prompted a variety of reactions from the onlookers.

Amarendra Bahubali, who had observed Y/N's unconventional behaviour throughout the ceremony, couldn't help but stifle a silent chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. In contrast, Bhallaladeva's hand met his face with an audible face-palm, a gesture of exasperation and disbelief.

Y/N, sensing the weight of the room's expectations and her own blunder, glanced awkwardly at the royal brothers. She summoned a hesitant and awkward smile and shrugged, her uncertainty palpable. Her initial attempts at courtly behaviour were fraught with awkwardness and a glaring unfamiliarity with the essential protocols. The palace staff exchanged knowing glances with Bhallaladeva, realizing that Y/N's journey to adapt to Mahishmati's royal customs was going to be quite the adventure.

“Oh, I mean... um, Priest-sir... or Your greatness?” Y/N stammered, growing increasingly flustered. Bhallaladeva couldn't resist a snarky remark, leaning closer to Y/N and whispering,

“Oh, it's just the guardian of the eternal flame and the messenger of the gods, no need to be formal.” Y/N shot back with a sarcastic smile,

“Right, just a guardian of the eternal flame and the messenger of the gods. No biggie, Your Highness.”

Bahubali, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and protectiveness, chimed in,

“Y/N, it's 'Your Holiness.' And don't worry, you'll get the hang of it.” Y/N sighed in relief at Bahubali's reassuring words, grateful for his kindness amid the awkward situation. But she couldn't resist one more dig at Bhallaladeva, who was clearly growing more annoyed.

“See, Your Snarkiness, even the guardian of the eternal flame and the messenger of the gods is forgiving. Maybe you should take a lesson or two from him.”

Bhallaladeva huffed in response, clearly not amused. “I have no desire to become a guardian or messenger of anything, let alone flames.”

The priest, though taken aback by Y/N's informality, decided to play along, recognizing the uniqueness of the situation. Y/N, sensing the tension, tried to correct herself, but it only added to the awkwardness. He chuckled softly and replied,

"Ah, it seems we have a free spirit among us today." Bhallaladeva couldn't contain his frustration any longer and muttered under his breath,

"Free spirit? More like a loose cannon." Y/N overheard him and couldn't resist the opportunity to come back.

"Well, Your Snarkiness, a loose cannon can make things interesting, can't it?"

Bhallaladeva shot her a withering look. "Interesting is an understatement."

Bahubali, ever the peacemaker, tried to intervene with a smile. "Let's not dwell on formalities for now. Y/N is still learning our ways, and we should be patient."

Y/N turned to Bahubali with a grateful expression. "Thank you, Your Highness. Your brother here isn't making it any easier for me."

Bhallaladeva scoffed. "I'm not here to make things easy for you, Monkey."

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes again. "Your Snarkiness, you're starting to sound like a broken record. Cut me some slack, will you?"

Bahubali chuckled and placed a reassuring hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Y/N, these customs may seem daunting, but I promise you'll get the hang of them with time."

Y/N turned to Bahubali with a grateful smile, her eyes reflecting her appreciation for his understanding. "Thank you, Your Highness. At least someone here is on my side."

Bhallaladeva couldn't resist a snarky comment. "Yes, it seems our noble prince is quite smitten with our guest from the land of ‘Mexico’."

Y/N laughed heartily at the playful tease, while Bahubali blushed slightly. "It's not about that, Bhalla. It's about showing kindness and patience to our guests."

Y/N chuckled sarcastically. "Why, Your Snarkiness, are you jealous that you're not the centre of attention for once?"

Bhallaladeva's retort was swift. "Hardly, Monkey. I have more important matters to attend to than vying for attention."

“You certainly have a way of keeping things interesting, don't you?” Whispered Bahubali to Y/n.

“I'm trying my best here, but these formalities are like a maze,” Y/n complained with a roll of her eyes. She turned to the priest and gave a bright smile. “Now, your holiness, d’you have me sitting here for any reason?”

Bhalla let out a deep sigh, face-palmed and shook her head slightly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“She's going to give me more grey hair than I can handle.” He muttered to himself.

Y/N, overhearing his comment, felt a spark of annoyance and turned her gaze squarely on the prince. “Oh, Your Snarkiness, are you worried about your looks? I wouldn't want to be responsible for that.”

Bhallaladeva shot her a withering look. “It's not about my looks. It's about upholding the dignity of this ceremony.”

"But grey hair? Really, Your Highness? I didn't realize my presence was that taxing on your youthful appearance."

Bhallaladeva met her gaze with an arched eyebrow. "Your presence is taxing in more ways than one, I assure you, Monkey."

Y/N smirked, not one to back down from a challenge. "Ah, Your Snarkiness, always the charmer. How do you manage to be so endearing?"

Bahubali, who had been observing the exchange with a protective glint in his eye, couldn't resist intervening. "Enough, you two. This is an important ceremony, and we should show respect to one another."

Y/N turned to Bahubali with a warm smile. "You're right, Your Highness. I apologize if I've caused any disruptions." Bahubali smiled back, just as warmly.

Bhallaladeva, ever the instigator, chimed in. "Apologies won't change the fact that you've disrupted the entire ceremony, Monkey." Y/n narrowed her eyes at Bhallaladeva.

"Don’t say that, Bhalla. We know she didn’t mean to do this, and we don’t blame you, Y/n, or at least I don’t. I know it can be overwhelming, but we'll help you navigate. Besides, it isn’t a big issue." Bahubali, with a kind and protective tone, addressed Y/n, “I don’t know why Bhalla making such a big deal of it,” He added, with a whisper.

Bhallaladeva, noticing Bahubali's protectiveness, couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly. "Always the gallant protector, aren't you, Bahubali?"

"Well, Your Snarkiness, it's nice to have someone who appreciates my company," Y/n said. Bhallaladeva couldn't help but respond with a touch of annoyance, his voice tinged with subtle jealousy. He muttered,

"Appreciates your company a bit too much, if you ask me."

“Let's not argue during the Pooja, shall we? We're here to celebrate and seek blessings, not engage in squabbles.”

Y/N nodded in agreement, but couldn't help but sneak an annoyed glance at Bhallaladeva, adding, “Yes, Your Royal Snarkiness, save your lectures for later. We'll have plenty of time for those.”

Bhallaladeva scoffed and turned his attention back to the ceremony, while Bahubali shot Y/N a warm and reassuring smile, silently promising to guide her through the complexities of Mahishmati's customs. Amid the snark and playful exchanges, it was clear that Y/N had found not just a protector in Bahubali but also a friend who was willing to embrace her and help her adapt to her new world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As Y/N stood before the mirror, carefully brushing her hair in the quiet of her room, the rhythmic strokes of the brush being the only sound, she was momentarily lost in her own thoughts. The private Pooja had been an eye-opener for her, highlighting the stark differences between her world and the opulent, intricate customs of Mahishmati.

A sudden knock at the door broke her reverie, and she called for the visitor to enter. When the door swung open, revealing the servant who stood before her, Y/N was stunned, nearly choking on her own surprise.

"Can it really be you, Gowri?" Y/N exclaimed, her voice a mix of joy and disbelief.

Gowri, however, introduced herself formally to Y/N, her tone and demeanour lacking the warmth of their previous friendship.

Gowri bowed to Y/n, as a servant would to a master.

“Yes, my name is Gowri, my lady.”

“Gowri…” Y/n breathed out, her eyebrows scrunching in confusion and the tiniest tears welling in her eyes from the joy.

“Yes.” Gowri remained formal, finally standing straight but keeping her head bowed, “I have been sent by the prince to serve you as your new personal servant.” Y/n arched a brow, several things not mixing well in her head.

Why was Gowri acting so weird, which of the princes sent her, did she know about the whole red amulet thing, and why was she being so formal?

“What- Gowri, what’re you saying?” Y/n formed a cracked and confused smile.

“Oh, I have been sent by His Royal Highness to serve as My Lady’s personal maid-servant for the rest of My Lady’s stay at Mahismati.”

“No- That’s not what I meant.” Y/n gulped and stepped towards Gowri, her nose starting to sting with the creeping realisation of something Y/n didn’t want to believe. But Y/n clung to the one bit of hope and put her hands on Gowri’s shoulders. “Do you not remember me, Gowri?”

Y/n stared into Gowri’s eyes, her pooled tears evident and her voice broken.

“No, My lady. I’m afraid we haven’t met before.” Gowri answered, after a second of thought.

She explained that she had been assigned as Y/N's main personal servant, a revelation that saddened Y/N, realizing that this wasn't the same Gowri she had known and cherished.

Y/N, her eyes tinged with disappointment, sighed and said,

"I can't believe they've changed you so much.” Y/n then something to Gowri that nearly made her lose her composure. “Treat me like a friend, please, not like a master. Which means calling me my anime and treating me like an equal." Y/n said as she strolled back to her dressed table.

“What, no I possibly cannot, my Lady. That would mean I’d be showing such disrespect to you, I cannot-” Y/n looked at the stressed Gowri with wide, sad, and teary eyes. Gowri gulped at the look on Y/n face that shattered her heart into several pieces.

“Please…” Y/n begged.

Gowri hesitated for a moment, then her lips curved into a faint smile as she replied, "Of course, Y/n."

Attempting to bridge the gap and bring back the camaraderie they once shared, Y/N requested Gowri to treat her not as a master but as a friend. Gradually, the formality began to melt away, and their bond started to rekindle. Y/N appreciated the effort Gowri was making to adapt to her wishes.

“Oh, by the way, Gowri,” Y/n asked the two chatted away in front of a plate of cut fruits, “which of the princes sent you to me?” Gowri’s eyes went wide and she realised her blunder.

“Oh- That was a mistake of mine lady, the prince wished to remain anonymous, and yet I accidentally revealed his ranking.”

“Anonymous?” Y/n ached a brow.

“Yes. The prince requested that a high maid-servant be sent to My Lady to serve her as a personal maid-servant.” Y/n gasped and jumped slightly.

"Oh, Gowri, please tell me!" Y/n pleaded, desperation seeping into her voice. She clasped her hands together, her demeanour almost theatrical. "Please! I promise I won't tell them you told me!"

Gowri, on the other hand, appeared distressed by the predicament she found herself in. Her nervousness was palpable, and she nibbled on her nails in a futile attempt to calm her frayed nerves.

"I really mustn't- He'd- He'd- Oh, My Lady-” Gowri's voice quivered with uncertainty as she implored Y/n not to push further.

But Y/n was not one to give up easily, especially when faced with a tantalizing mystery.

"Come on, just a tiny hint, pretty please? You know how much I love a good mystery." She leaned in closer to Gowri, her eyes sparkling with playful anticipation.

Gowri squirmed in her seat, clearly torn between her loyalty to her lady and the weight of her secret.

“Well, I suppose I could say that... one of them seems to have a particular soft spot for your fiery spirit."

Y/n's interest was piqued, and she couldn't help but smile at the vague hint.

“A soft spot, you say? Now, that's a clue worth pondering over, isn't it?"

Gowri nodded timidly, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anxiety.

"But My Lady, please, you mustn't tell anyone I said anything."

"Cross my heart, Gowri, not a word to anyone." Y/n made a solemn promise, sealing their secret with a conspiratorial wink. "Now, let's get back to this delicious fruit."

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Amidst their conversation, Gowri conveyed a message from Prince Bhallaladeva, which caught Y/N off guard. Bhalla had arranged for her to have etiquette lessons. Annoyance flickered in Y/N's eyes at the thought of Bhalla's involvement, but she reluctantly agreed, realizing that it was necessary for her to navigate the complexities of her new life in Mahishmati.

"Etiquette lessons, Gowri? Are you serious?" Y/N groaned, rolling her eyes. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Gowri chuckled softly, saying, "It seems the prince believes it's important for you to fit in here. Besides, it might not be as bad as you think."

Y/N sighed in resignation. "Well, let's hope they don't turn me into a completely different person. Imagine how it would be if they sucked the life out of me and turned me into a ‘His Royal Snarkiness’ clone.” Gowri stifled a chuckle.

“You know, I think the prince had pure intentions. He saw how you struggled during the pooja, and despite how much you two bicker, he seems to genuinely want to help.”

“Don’t be silly, Gowri,” Y/n said, with a roll of her eyes.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The day following the Pooja, Y/N embarked on her etiquette lessons. The instructor chosen by the palace was a woman of unyielding traditionalism. With an air of stern authority, she left no room for error and demanded nothing short of perfection.

The instructor began with the basics, emphasizing the significance of poise and decorum within the courtly circles of Mahishmati. Y/N listened attentively, eager to absorb the knowledge that would help her navigate the intricacies of her new life.

However, her first lesson ended on a rather tragic note. As Y/N attempted to replicate the graceful gestures and postures the instructor demonstrated, her movements were far from flawless. The instructor's severe gaze never wavered, and soon enough, she couldn't contain her displeasure any longer.

With a sharp tone, the instructor scolded Y/N, making her aware of every misstep and misinterpretation of courtly conduct. Y/N's cheeks flushed with embarrassment as her inadequacies were laid bare for all to see. It was a humbling experience, one that left her feeling as though she was a long way from mastering the art of Mahishmati's courtly manners.

But Y/n knew one thing for sure: The next she would see Bhallaladeva, she would surely need to hold herself back from pouncing on him, pulling his hair and hacking the man into several pieces from the rage and frustration.

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

Taglist: @vellipo-mellaga, @bitchy-bi-trash, @vijayasena, @sakhiiii, @celestesinsight (If you would like to join the taglist, please let me know in the replies!)

#telugu #tollywood #writers #writers on tumblr #bahubali #tamil #y/n #reader insert #telugu fanfic #x reader #bhallaladeva x y/n #bhallaladeva x reader #bahubali x y/n #bahubali x reader #love triangle

25 notes · View notes

allari-ammayi · 7 months

Text

Butta Bomma

A. Bahubali x Reader x B. Deva

The New World

Synopsis: When Y/n visits her ill grandmother, she is given an ancient red amulet along with a few cryptic last words, before her grandmother's death. Following her Grandmother's funeral, Y/n is inspecting the amulet when the starts above aligned in a mystical way, opening a way for Y/n to get sucked through worlds and find herself, unconscious in the middle of a hunting ground in a world she assumed was fictional. Watching a strange woman magically materialise in front of him, Bhalla is starstruck and decides to take her into custody and seek her medical attention to find her identity and intentions.

3.9k Words

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Y/n's journey into the world of "Baahubali" was made possible by an ancient artifact - an enigmatic heirloom inherited from her grandmother. This precious possession was an ancient amulet that had been safeguarded within her family for generations. Unbeknownst to Y/n, the amulet held an incredible power within its intricate design - the ability to transcend reality and unlock doorways to alternate dimensions.

This amulet, an artistic masterpiece created by an ancient civilization whose intentions remained shrouded in mystery, was more than just a piece of jewellery; it was a conduit between worlds. Its purpose was to breathe life into the tales of history and forge connections between realms that were seemingly disparate.

As Y/n donned the amulet around her neck, she couldn't fathom its profound significance. Within its ornate patterns and hidden symbols lay the key to unlocking uncharted realms of storytelling and adventure. It was a relic of a bygone era that would soon transport her to a realm where history and legend converged. The characters she admired on the silver screen would become her companions and the boundaries between fiction and reality would blur in surreal ways. Y/n's journey was bound to transcend the ordinary and redefine her understanding of her existence.

Y/n's deep emotional connection to the epic story of "Baahubali" played a crucial role in selecting her as the perfect candidate for an incredible and life-changing adventure. The story that had captured her heart was about to come to life and merge with her reality in ways she could never have imagined.

The catalyst for Y/n's fateful encounter with the red amulet lay in her grandmother's deteriorating health. It was a night like any other as Y/n, in her role as the guardian of the ancient antique store, prepared to close up shop. The dusty artifacts and aging relics seemed to hold their breath in anticipation of the events that would soon unfold.

In the midst of her routine, Y/n's world was abruptly disrupted by a phone call. On the other end of the line was Gowri, her closest friend and her grandmother's devoted caretaker. A sense of urgency gripped Gowri's voice as she expressed her deep concern for Y/n's beloved grandmother, who was ailing and in need of immediate attention.

“Gowri, what’s up?” Y/n asked casually as she balanced her phone on her shoulder, leaning her head down, sideways to keep it in place as she carried boxes.

“Y/n… I’m getting really worried about Grandma… She’s looking worse tonight than she usually does.” Gowri’s quiet and unusually worried voice, caused Y/n’s eyebrows to scrunch up in confusion as she placed her boxes down and held her phone using her hand.

“What do you mean?”

“She just looks very fragile. I mean- She always does, but tonight it’s just… You should come visit her.” Gowri said. Y/n wasn’t one to argue much, and she wasn’t one to decline an invitation to visit her grandmother either.

“Alright, don’t worry, I’ll be there soon,” Y/n answered, determined.

With her heart racing and a sense of foreboding settling in her chest, Y/n realized the gravity of the situation. She knew she had to act swiftly and without hesitation. As she closed the shop for the night, the red amulet, unbeknownst to her, pulsed with a subtle energy, as if it were aware of the profound journey about to unfold.

Little did Y/n understand that this pivotal moment would become the threshold to a world where the lines between fiction and reality blurred into an indistinguishable tapestry of adventure. The red amulet, a silent witness to the unfolding drama, was poised to guide Y/n through a narrative that would transcend her deepest dreams.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After closing up the antique shop for the day, Y/n hurried to visit her beloved Grandma, entering her room with a sense of deep concern etched across her face. There, she beheld her grandmother, who appeared extremely frail and unwell, yet her spirit remained as mischievous as ever.

"Grandma… How are you feeling?" Y/n asked softly, her voice filled with genuine worry. Grandma mustered a weak but warm smile.

"Oh, my dear Y/n, you worry too much. I'm just an old woman catching up with time." Her eyes twinkled with that familiar mischievous charm.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. She had been raised by her grandmother and shared an unbreakable bond with her. Seeing Grandma in this state was deeply painful.

The two talked for a while, reminiscing about old stories and cherished memories, their laughter occasionally punctuating the conversation. It was a bittersweet moment, knowing that time was slipping through their fingers.

"Remember when you were just a little girl and I used to tell you stories of brave warriors and epic adventures?" Grandma asked, her eyes distant yet filled with nostalgia. Y/n nodded, her eyes misting with tears.

"Yes, Grandma, those stories were my favourite."

Grandma's gaze became more intent, her voice gaining a note of urgency. "Well, my dear, I want you to have something special. Something that will keep those stories alive."

With a feeble yet determined hand, Grandma reached beneath her pillow and retrieved a small red amulet, placing it onto Y/n's palm. Y/n looked at the intricate design and felt its smooth surface against her skin.

"Grandma, what is this?" Y/n asked, her curiosity piqued.

"It's an heirloom, my child," Grandma whispered. "An ancient amulet that has been passed down through our family for generations. Keep it close to your heart, Y/n, for it holds a power beyond imagination."

The exchange left Y/n with a mix of curiosity and wonderment. She had no idea that this simple amulet would soon become the key to unlocking a world of extraordinary adventures and unexpected connections, bridging the gap between her reality and the fantastical realm of Baahubali.

The red amulet, a mystical relic, hung gracefully from a golden chain. Its circular pendant, meticulously crafted, bore a diamond-shaped pattern on its top. The gem, encased in a thick, pure-golden outer layer, radiated an otherworldly enchantment. The surface of the golden casing was adorned with inscriptions in ancient text, weaving an aura of mystique around this cherished heirloom.

Y/n looked down at the amulet in her hand, its intricate design fascinating her.

"But what is its significance, Grandma?"

With a knowing smile, Grandma began to speak, her words taking on a cryptic and prophetic quality.

"Dear one, this amulet you hold carries the whispers of forgotten worlds. In time, it may become your guide to a realm where dreams and destinies entwine."

Y/n's eyes widened with intrigue.

"What do you mean, Grandma?"

Grandma continued, her words measured and enigmatic. "When the stars align, trust the heart that beats within. Decipher the path it chooses."

Y/n felt a shiver down her spine as the weight of Grandma's words sank in.

"Grandma, this all sounds… foggy. What should I do with it?"

Grandma's eyes held a deep wisdom as she replied, "Keep it close, my child, and let your heart be your guide. The amulet will reveal its purpose when the time is right. It is a connection to something greater, something beyond our understanding."

As Y/n clutched the amulet, a sense of curiosity and anticipation filled her.

The grandmother's words carried a profound suggestion: the amulet held a power beyond its ornate appearance. It possessed the ability to transport Y/n to a world where her heart's desires and choices would be of utmost importance. It was as if the amulet itself was a key to unlock a realm where dreams and destinies converged.

The deliberate cryptic nature of the message was meant to imbue Y/n's journey with an air of mystery and discovery. It was an invitation to trust in the unknown, to let her heart guide her through the enigmatic path that lay ahead. The amulet, a silent witness to generations past, was now her conduit to an adventure that defied the boundaries of ordinary existence.

With Grandma's words echoing in her mind, Y/n felt a mixture of curiosity and anticipation coursing through her veins.

“Remember my words dear one. This amulet you hold carries the whispers of forgotten worlds. In time, it may become your guide to a realm where dreams and destinies entwine. When the stars align, trust the heart that beats within. Decipher the path it chooses.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As Y/n left her grandmother's room, she clutched the amulet, her mind still swirling with the cryptic message. Her footsteps were slow and contemplative as she walked back home, the weight of her grandmother's words and the amulet in her hand playing on her mind.

Seconds turned into minutes as Y/n reached her own doorstep. She was deep in thought, trying to make sense of the cryptic message her grandmother had left her. The world outside was quiet, and she was about to unlock her door when her phone rang again, and it was Gowri.

Y/n picked up the phone, her voice hesitant.

"Gowri? What's wrong?"

Gowri's voice, although filled with sadness, was more despondent than terrified.

"Y/n, you need to come back to Grandma's place. Something has happened."

Confusion washed over Y/n as she struggled to comprehend the urgency in Gowri's tone, barely being able to understand anything Gowri was saying through her choked sobs and tears.

"What do you mean, something happened? Is Grandma okay?"

Gowri hesitated for a moment before delivering the heartbreaking news.

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. Grandma... But you have to come immediately! Now!"

Y/n's heart seemed to stop. Y/n sprinted back as fast as her legs could carry her. When she arrived at her grandmother's place, her heart sank as she saw Gowri sobbing uncontrollably over Grandma's limp body. The room seemed to blur, and Y/n's world shattered into a million pieces.

She dropped to her knees beside her grandmother's lifeless form, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch her. The realization hit her like a tidal wave—Grandma had passed away in the few minutes that Y/n had been away.

Gowri's tear-filled eyes met Y/n's, and there was no need for words. The pain, the grief, the profound loss—they hung heavy in the air. Y/n's throat tightened, and her chest ached with the weight of her sorrow.

The amulet, once clutched tightly in her hand, had fallen to the floor unnoticed. In that moment, all that mattered was the emptiness left by her grandmother's departure. The world had gone silent and still, and Y/n could do nothing but sit there, her heart shattered, as she mourned the loss of the woman who had raised her and who had left her with the enigmatic amulet that now seemed insignificant in the face of her overwhelming grief.

The world around her faded away, and she felt herself going silent. There were no tears, just a deep, profound emptiness that seemed to consume her. The amulet in her hand felt heavier than ever as if it held the weight of her grief.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The funeral took place a few days later, shrouded in a heavy silence that mirrored Y/n's inner turmoil. Ever since she had received the devastating news of Grandma's death, her world had been plunged into disarray, and an eerie silence had settled around her. It was as if the very fabric of her existence had unravelled, leaving her in a world devoid of sound.

As Y/n stood among the mourners, her eyes fixed on the casket that held her beloved grandmother, she couldn't hear the cries and sobs that usually accompanied such occasions. The world had gone quiet, and the weight of her grief was a suffocating presence that seemed to swallow every sound.

In her trembling hands, she clutched the one piece of Grandma that remained with her—the amulet. It felt warm against her skin, a silent reminder of her grandmother's cryptic message and the journey that lay ahead.

Y/n lowered her gaze to the amulet, her vision blurred by tears. She kissed the amulet gently, a gesture of love and reverence. As her lips touched the cool surface, a single tear welled up in her eye and cascaded down, falling onto the amulet.

That solitary tear, a testament to her profound sorrow, glistened like a precious gem on the amulet's surface. It was as if her grief had been absorbed by the ancient heirloom, a silent promise that her grandmother's memory would forever be a part of her journey.

As the funeral continued in sombre silence, to Y/n, Y/n held the amulet close to her heart, finding solace in the belief that Grandma's presence would guide her through the uncertain path ahead. The amulet, now carrying the weight of both sorrow and hope, had become a symbol of their unbreakable bond, a connection that transcended the boundaries of life and death.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

One evening, a few days after the sombre farewell at Grandma's funeral, Y/n found herself engulfed in an overwhelming sense of loneliness. She longed to see Grandma once more, to hear her voice, and share a comforting embrace. But reality weighed heavily on her heart – Grandma was gone, forever beyond her reach.

In her solitude, Y/n's thoughts turned to the amulet Grandma had entrusted to her. It was a tangible connection to her grandmother, a piece of their shared history. Y/n took it into her hands, its surface cool and familiar, carrying with it the memories of their cryptic conversation and Grandma’s confusing last words.

As Y/n examined the amulet, a celestial phenomenon unfolded in the night sky. The stars above aligned in an inexplicable and peculiar way, as if nature itself was preparing for an extraordinary event. The amulet, sensing the emotional whirlwind within Y/n – her profound grief over Grandma's death intertwined with the deep connection she had developed with the character “Bhallaladeva” – began to radiate with a mesmerizing light.

The glow emanating from the amulet grew brighter, casting an ethereal illumination in the room. Y/n watched in awe and astonishment as the amulet's light danced and flickered, responding to the depths of her emotions and the celestial alignment above.

In that moment, Y/n sensed that something extraordinary was unfolding. She felt a connection, an invisible thread linking her to an unknown destiny. The amulet had become more than just an heirloom; it was a conduit to a world where dreams and reality converged, where her longing for Grandma and her fascination with Baahubali would intertwine in ways she could scarcely fathom. The journey she had never anticipated was about to begin, and it would bridge the gap between the ordinary and the extraordinary in the most astonishing of ways.

As the celestial alignment painted the night sky with its rare and dazzling display, the amulet's latent magic awakened in response to this once-in-a-lifetime event. It was as if the amulet had been waiting for this very moment, a convergence of cosmic forces that would set its mystical powers into motion.

In an instant, Y/n found herself transported through space and time, leaving behind the familiar world she had known. The kingdom of Mahishmati materialised before her, or rather she materialised in front of it, its grandeur and mystique unfolding in breathtaking detail. It was a surreal journey, a passage through the realms of fiction into a tangible reality.

The "why" behind this phenomenon remained a tantalizing mystery, an enigma she couldn't decipher. But there was an uncanny sense that the amulet had chosen her for a purpose, as if it had sensed the unique qualities she possessed – her keen perspective on the characters, her ability to see beyond the surface, her intriguing empathy for Bhallaladeva's character, and most of all, her profound grief and loneliness.

It was as though the amulet had become more than just an heirloom; it had evolved into a sentient entity with an agenda of its own. It reacted to Y/n's complex emotional landscape, responding to her need for connection and purpose. In this uncharted world of Mahishmati, her journey was about to unveil a deeper meaning, a destiny intertwined with the very essence of the characters she had admired and the realm she had come to love. The amulet's magic had set her on a path where her unique perspective and heartfelt emotions would play a pivotal role, and the answers to the mysteries that awaited her would slowly unfurl like the pages of an epic tale.

Y/n's extraordinary journey had transported her to Mahishmati, the mythical kingdom immortalized in the Baahubali films. Her arrival coincided with the pivotal events that would set the stage for the central storyline of the epic saga – a kingdom at the crossroads of destiny, torn between two rival contenders for the throne.

Y/n's arrival in the world of "Baahubali" unfolded during a remarkably dramatic moment, as if fate had chosen the perfect backdrop for her entrance. It was a bright, clear afternoon, with the sun ascending to its zenith, casting long, dramatic shadows that stretched across the majestic landscape.

When she materialized into this unfamiliar realm, Y/n found herself standing in the heart of a sprawling hunting ground that sprawled on the outskirts of Mahishmati. This hunting ground was a wilderness of immense proportions, a realm where nature reigned untamed and untethered. Dense forests, their canopies reaching skyward, embraced the landscape, their shadows playing intricate games with the golden sunlight that filtered through the leaves.

In contrast, lush meadows rolled out as far as the eye could see, their verdant carpet interrupted only by the vibrant bursts of wildflowers that painted the scenery in a riot of colours. Nearby, a meandering river glistened under the radiant sun, its waters sparkling with a life of their own.

This sprawling hunting ground had long been a favoured haunt of the royal family, a place where they ventured for grand hunting expeditions. But today, it served as the stage for an unexpected twist in the narrative, as Y/n, an outsider from another world, stood amidst its awe-inspiring beauty, an unwitting participant in the epic tale of Baahubali. The convergence of her presence with this dramatic setting was a testament to the profound journey that awaited her, a journey where the boundaries between her reality and the fantastical realm of the films would blur in mesmerizing ways.

Y/n's arrival in this mystifying world was as abrupt as it was bewildering. In the blink of an eye, she materialized out of thin air, as if summoned into existence from the very ether itself. One moment, there was nothing but the serene expanse of the hunting ground, and the next, Y/n stood there, disoriented and utterly perplexed.

She couldn't fathom how this had occurred, how she had seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the midst of this enigmatic world. The transition from her own reality to this new one had happened in the span of a breath, leaving her bewildered and filled with questions.

“This way, I think I hear some kind of deer approaching.”

“Over there!”

“What in the world…”

“My goodness…”

“This- This can’t be real…”

Bhallaladeva, a formidable presence leading a hunting party through the untamed wilderness of Mahishmati, and his hunting team were the first to witness Y/N's abrupt and mystifying appearance. The very air seemed to ripple around her as she materialized before him, and for a moment, his keen eyes could scarcely believe what they beheld.

His initial reaction was one of sheer shock and alarm, his instincts as a warrior flaring to life. In an instant, he brought his mighty steed to an abrupt halt, the powerful beast rearing up as it obeyed his command. The soldiers who followed in his wake did likewise, their horses snorting and whinnying in a chorus of confusion.

Y/N, meanwhile, still reeling from her sudden and inexplicable arrival in this foreign world, crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Bhallaladeva, his gaze fixed on this enigmatic intruder, was immediately on high alert. His knuckles clenched tightly around the reins of his horse as he pondered the situation before him.

The soldiers under his command mirrored his uncertainty, their hands hovering near the hilts of their weapons. They could not discern whether Y/N posed a threat or if she was the unwitting victim of some dark and malevolent sorcery that had brought her here.

“What do we do Your Highness?”

“Should we perhaps lock her up?”

“Don’t be ridiculous! She could be an angel! Look at her clothes!”

“Or she could be a dark magic practitioner!”

“Maybe- Maybe a fairy of some kind? She sure looks the part.”

“Really? A fainting fairy? What’re you, six years old? Clearly, she’s some kind of evil witch!”

“Maybe use your brain for once. What if she is a poor subject to a dark magic practitioner? Look at the poor girl…”

Bhallaladeva’s soldiers argued as he stared at the girl in silence, pondering what to do.

As the seconds ticked by, the hunting party remained suspended in a tense tableau, caught between wariness and curiosity. Bhallaladeva, a complex figure known for his strategic prowess and unyielding resolve, faced a conundrum that defied easy answers. The arrival of this unknown figure had introduced an unforeseen variable into their expedition, and the fate of Y/N and her role in the kingdom's destiny hung in the balance, waiting to be unravelled.

With a composed demeanour that belied the tumult of his thoughts, Bhallaladeva made a decisive choice. He decided to take Y/N into custody, not out of suspicion, but rather to determine her identity and intentions. Such a measured approach was characteristic of him, for he knew that rash decisions could sow discord as surely as a misguided arrow.

“Let us take her into our custody,” He ordered, “There, we can determine her intentions and her identity.” Bhalla took a look at the unconscious girl, feeling an odd sense of concern for her. “Till then, one of you needs to safely take her to the medical house and seek her immediate medical attention.”

He issued a firm command to his soldiers, instructing them to handle the unconscious stranger with care and delicacy. Y/N's still form was carefully lifted from the ground, and she was secured onto a horse-drawn litter. It was to be a dignified transport, one befitting the ruler of Mahishmati and his penchant for thorough examination.

As the hunting party set out toward the palace, the news of this mysterious appearance spread like wildfire among Bhallaladeva's retinue. In moments, the tranquil wilderness was abuzz with conversation and speculation, a commotion that rippled through the ranks of soldiers and attendants.

Questions swirled like leaves in a tempest. Who was this stranger, and what brought her to this ancient kingdom? The attire she wore, so distinctly modern and unheard of, baffled those who caught glimpses of her. How could she have seemingly appeared out of nowhere, defying the very laws of reality? Was she truly an angel?

♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡•♡

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

#telugu #tollywood #writers #writers on tumblr #bahubali #tamil #y/n #reader insert #telugu fanfic #x reader #bahubali x reader #bhallaladeva #bhallaladeva x reader #isekai #love triangle

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sada-siva-sanyaasi · 1 year

Text

jagadeka veerudu athiloka sundari - part thirteen

masterlist

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Aarya’s hands shook as Rudra stared at her, his unfocused eyes shifting between her and Bhalla’s grip on the sword tightened as Rudra’s focus fell on him. “But to make you mine,” Rudra hissed, pointing his hand at Bhalla, “he needs to die. And that honour shall be mine.”

Rudra staggered towards them and Bhalla stilled, feeling Aarya’s palm on his sword. She slid it out of his hand and stepped forward, pushing the tip of the sword into Rudra’s chest, stopping him. Rudra’s assault froze mid-air, looking down at the sword barely hurting him as Aarya stared at him. “You’re not you, Rudra. Let me take you to guruji, he will-” “I believe it’s too late for that, Aarya. You’re coming with me, like it or not.” Soldiers filled the ground but stopped when Bhalla raised his hand, waiting. Aarya’s face hardened as she twisted the sword into his heart, pulling it out and feeling the blood splatter all over her face. Rudra fell back, hand on the gaping hole in his chest, and he looked up to watch her throw the sword away.

“That wound will send you back to where you came from. Our magic has been cursed because you returned from the dead, Rudra. The least you can do is tell me how you came back.”

Blood spluttered from Rudra’s mouth as he crumpled to the ground, vision blurry and body decaying. Wordlessly, he continued to stare at her as his life slowly left him, yet again. “I've done nothing other than love you, even in my death. And I’ll do so again, Your Majesty.”

Everyone backed off as the black akandas fell down around him, turning to ash as he died. “What happened?” Bijjaladeva’s voice rang out as he stormed over, staggering back the moment he saw the dead body. Aarya bent down, collecting the ash of the stones as Bhalla looked around, his eyes finding Anjasi and Sadhana. “I think you need to take him away, I’ll take care of her.”

He waved the rest of the soldiers away as Aarya stayed on the ground, collecting the ashes while Rudra’s remains were taken away. Anjasi paused, watching her carefully before turning to Kattappa, nodding once and leaving. As they all left, Bhalla knelt down beside Aarya, enveloping her shaking hands in his and tugging her closer to him. “Would you like to go inside with me, now?”

“Why is it so cold, suddenly?” Aarya murmured, shuffling closer to Bhalla as he helped her up, both of them walking back into the palace. Bhalla huddled her shivering form as close to him as he could and moved her to her room, when he noticed the tight grip she had on the ashes. “Your kingdom isn’t so-”

“Aarya, you need to rest,” he interrupted, shaking her slightly when he paused, hearing voices from the other side of the corridor getting progressively louder. He turned around and saw Kattappa walking towards him, his face grim. “Your Majesty, you have to come with me. And I think it’s best you bring her along too.” Aarya frowned at that, straightening. “I’m fine, where should we go?”

They both silently followed Kattappa towards the voices, and heard Bijjaladeva hiss from his room. “When I told you to strengthen the spell on that scum I didn’t mean to the point where he needs to die again, you fool! You have ruined all my work!”

“I beg you, forgive me,” a voice rang out, and Bhalla inched forward to see a soldier on his knees in front of his father, tears flowing. “I only did what you asked me to, sire. I did the spell to bring that man back, and instructed him to get her out of Mahishmati. I didn’t know such a thing would happen.”

The head priest of Mahishmati scoffed in annoyance and walked to Bijjaladeva. “I had warned you already, sire, that spells to do with the dead are very dangerous. Not only have you brought back a man dead for more than a year using magic that is not your own, but also tried to utilise him for more than a day. The gods will frown upon us, and curse us.”

“It’s not just the gods.” Aarya stormed through, the ashes slipping from her hands as she grabbed the nearest sword, pointing it straight at Bijjaladeva. “All this time I suffered, my kingdom suffered, and it was because of you? Our weakening magic and ashen stones is your fault?”

Bhallaladeva walked in, fury all over his face while his father’s pale face shone with sweat as he looked to Bhalla for help. “You dare put a sword to my throat?!” He tried to sound strong but he only sounded weak and desperate, hands twitching. “You dare use my magic against me?!” Aarya thundered, chest heaving as her hands shook too, pressing further into his neck.

“I could kill you this instant and your son wouldn’t be able to stop me, not just because he doesn’t want to but also because even with weaker magic I am the strongest person in this palace. And you were pathetic enough to think you could send me out of Bhalla’s life this way?”

She stepped away, throwing the sword to the ground and turning to Bhalla. The commotion attracted the attention of the counsel of Sundarsi, with Anjasi and Sadhana and their head priest arriving to the room. “Your father is vehemently against our marriage, Bhalla. This means we declare-” “No one is declaring war, Aarya.” Bhalla scowled, walking to his father.

“Listen to me, Nanna. Will you, or will you not accept our marriage? Despite every single thing you have done, I still am talking well so don’t test my patience.” Bijjaladeva glowered, pushing his son away. “I would rather die.” Bhalla’s face remained stoic as he turned to Aarya.

“If he won’t accept our marriage, it’s his fault. He’s not the emperor anyway, he seems to forget that. He won’t be attending tomorrow, we can just get wed.”

“Bhalla, but-”

“Since you don’t wish to accept it, don’t. You’re old anyway, Nanna. Don’t you think it’s time you went to be a part of the pilgrims?”

Bijjaladeva staggered back, tears burning in his eyes as Aarya looked between both men with uncertainty. “Bhalla, he is your father, I can’t-” “You very much can. We can, Aarya. I don’t care who’s in our way.” Casting his father a last glare, Bhalla grabbed her hands and walked out. Kattappa stared wordlessly at Bijjaladeva as he crumpled to the floor, crying pathetically. “That bitch- she stole my son!”

“She didn’t, Your Majesty. You drove him away.” Kattappa bowed once, leaving him alone. Bijjaladeva stumbled towards his bed, falling down on it.

As he drowned in his own misery, Bhalla and Aarya silently walked towards his room, lost in their own thoughts. As the moon stayed high in the night sky, Aarya turned to Bhalla and said, “It’s midnight, Bhalla. The next day already.” Bhalla raised an eyebrow, staring at her quirky smile with one of his own. “And it is, what about it?” Aarya slowly grabbed his hands, entwining them as she gazed softly at him. “I know it’s not really the best idea I have gotten, but shall we get wed right now? It is the next day, and it is apparently auspicious too.”

Bhalla kept staring at her as she got nervous, looking away from her. “If you think we must wait, then I don’t mind-” “Mahadev’s temple is not here, but we have a quartz shivling down near the prayer halls. Let’s go.” Bhalla’s grip on her hands tightened as they hurried towards the prayer halls, faces glowing with moonlight and happiness.

— —

News spread instantly of Mahishmati’s emperor and Sundarsi’s queen’s hushed marriage, stunning even the kingdoms’ counsel. The couple had alerted their respective ministers of their decision to vanish to be with each other for a while, further astounding everyone. Mahishmati’s citizens rejoiced at the absence of their emperor, even going as far as feeling happy for him owing to his change in behaviour. Sundarsi continued to be governed by the princesses, their magic restored while the old royal of Mahishmati fumed, his own empire being taken care of by Kattappa and the counsel.

As this went on for a couple of months, a soldier ran through the halls of the palace in Kuntala, alerting their queen, Devasena. “Your Majesty, we have visitors. You need to come.” He gasped, looking towards the halls as Devasena waltzed past him, arriving at the bridge as a smile took over her face.

Aarya beamed at her, walking to her with open arms as Devasena rushed to hug her, both the women sighing as they reunited after ages. Bhalla stood behind them, a soft smile on his own face as they pulled away, Devasena gasping at Aarya. “You look ethereal, Aarya. I haven’t seen you this happy in so long, how are you?” Aarya giggled, wrapping an arm around Devasena while she greeted Bhalla, all of them walking towards the palace.

“My husband is taking wonderful care of me, I am good. How are you?” Devasena’s smile wavered, but she nodded, exhaling as she pulled her friend closer to her. “Much better now that I have seen you. Would you like to rest? I shall have your room ready.” Aarya nodded, walking behind a soldier towards her room. As Bhalla was about to follow her, Devasena stuck her hand out, stopping him. “We need to talk, both about my best friend and the child in her.”

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#desiblr #rrr #bahubali #bahubali 1 #bahubali 2 #bhallaladeva #bhallaladeva x reader #bhalla #angst #fluff #amarendra bahubali #telugu #tamil #tollywood

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