Salaar Brainrot
Sometimes life gives lemons, and asks you to make a lemonade. But to Varadha raja Mannar, life gave him the devil, with the name of Deva.
Varadha grinned at the irony of the name, as he listened to his beloved friend’s angry rant, and in the end his adorable sorry for beheading a man for him. Varadha was still in shock for that. The sounds Deva’s pleas and slick sound of Narang’s head being cut off reverberated in his mind repeatedly. It was a bad idea bringing him here. He became selfish. He needed to use that blood thirsty attitude of Deva to cleanse Khansaar. Heneeded his Deva.
“I’m the one who has to say sorry to you. It’s all my fault.” It was, He knew the consequences of bringing Deva to this hellhole. He knew the extent of crazy his Salaar would go for him. He knew how it would affect Deva. Deva did not choose this, he did not choose to murder people, but for his Varadha, he couldn’t help himself. He knew this, Yet he did nothing.”No matter what happened here, I restrained myself from calling you. But I couldn’t do it.” Tears started gathering in his eyes, as he remembered those lonely nights he cried himself to sleep missing this man. He looked down, trying to keep his tears at bay.
If he did not have his pride as a Mannar and as a man, he would have let his tears flow easily, “You could have been great anywhere except here. I’m Sorry” He tried to look at Deva, through the tears, only to find himself face to face with the man. T
he bars separating them were bent out of shape. The astonishing part was how they were wide enough for this monster of a man to fit right in. In his shocked state he didn’t realise had let go of the tears he tried so hard to keep in. At least not until he felt rough calloused fingers wipe his cheek.
Deva was a little taller than him, so Varadha had to look up to catch the man’s beautiful hazel eyes. What he saw in them had Varadha weak in his knees. The amount of devotion and love he saw in those eyes ; Varadha couldn’t help but put his arms around Deva and pull him into his embrace.
Once, in his drunken state, Varadha had confessed that he felt scared, but he forgot to mention how safe he felt in Deva’s presence. His relief knew no bounds when Deva agreed to come back to khansaar. To him. He sobbed more freely now. His shoulders shaking from all the feelings he tried to hide, now flowing freely in the arms of his loving Salaar. And Deva simply stood there, holding the crying man close to him. His nerves boiling with anger at whoever caused his Varadha so much Pain and Hurt. He wanted to kill each and every one of them. Sacrifice their lives for his Sultan. He wanted to curse himself for not being here, with him. To not support him. But right now all he could do was gently hold the man, rubbing soothing circles on his waist and manoeuvring his head towards his chest to get even closer to him.
Universe seemed to stop at that particular moment. It was only the two of them and no one else. Varadha felt so safe he felt it easy to let go of his consciousness. He was sure that no nightmare would haunt now that his Salaar swore to protect him.
So much had he comforted himself In the arms of his loved one, that Varadha didn’t even realise that they were now seated on the slab of stone kept for them in the middle of the cell, with him completely occupying Deva’s lap and his hands grabbing on the the fabric of Deva’s shirt on his back. He didn’t even realise that all the guards had been silently shooed away by Deva by a simple gesture of silence and a glare which promised their deaths if they dared to disturb his Varadha’s long awaited peaceful slumber.
*****
“ I do not care for what they think. Just tell me what decision you take for yourself.” That’s what Deva had said to him, the night before the voting. It was clear, that Deva was ready to do anything for him at that moment.
“Khansaar erupu skala!” He had declared for him. A promise to avenge him, to get revenge for him. He knew Varadha was burning with the need for revenge for all the years of torture he had to bear at the hands of all those who claimed to have ruled Khansaar. It was Deva’s promise to Varadha, his Sultan.
“You asked me what I named him when I was young didn’t you” Varadha said to his brother, who had hurriedly come to his side, fighting his side of the battle. He was looking at Deva, the scars on his back indicating his shouryaanga desendance. While the world knew that the shouryaanga sword ritual was performed as an allegiance to their God. Varadha knew who Deva was performing the ritual for, to whom he was pledging his loyalty.
“Salaar.” He said, proudly, looking at the strong beautiful man who pledged and promised to make him his King, his Sultan.
