This snippet takes place in this universe. This is before the story proper, kinda explores the woman who sexually abuses Arjun specifically chooses him.
TW: Implied rape/non con, drugging, loss of consciousness, ogling, psychological abuse.
Tagging @dreamer-in-sleep and @ba-bhump as well as @i-eat-worlds and @rainydaywhump
Note on the Hindi: Dhoti is a form of clothing which is tied around the waist and covers the wearer from hip to ankle. Pitr shraadh is a ritual honouring the ancestors of the person doing the ritual.
Snippet under the cut.
Word count: 517
She follows him, the kind young officer with a surname that promises power. His family name is so well-known that all she would need to consolidate even more power than she has is a child of his. She is decided in her path.
He makes it all the easier. Always smiling, always courteous, unlike his fellows that mutter darkly about her people. Sticking to a clear routine, ordered and neat. The perfect officer.
She knows his whereabouts well, knows that today, he would honour those of his family that are long gone, that he would be alone for quite the length of time. Just right for her to take action.
He smiles at her like he always does, inclining his head, a white dhoti tied at his waist. She smiles back, affecting coy shyness. It helps that he is definitely not hard on the eyes, the setting sun at his back throwing his handsome, chiseled features and dimpled smile into ever greater grace.
His head is tilted towards her, mouth open to ask a question. She extends the bottle of water to him before he speaks a word. “Oh!” He exclaims. “Thank you,” he smiles again, bright and beautiful. “For your kindness.” He tilts the bottle to his mouth, his adam’s apple moving as he swallows. She relishes the sight. You will pay for my kindness many times over, Lt. Col. Kauraveya.
She melts into the shadows, watching. Halfway into his rituals, he stumbles once, shaking his head.
She only needs to nod for her men to pounce, easily overtaking the disoriented young man.
Laid out on her bed, he is indeed a handsome sight, eyes closed though they are. She had known that of him, having watched him at his ablutions often. The white dhoti he wears hardly offers him any protection from her hungry eyes, the material sheer and dripping with water.
She feasts her eyes on him until he wakes. When he does wake, she knows exactly what to say, having anticipated exactly this. That he would protest, armoured in the vows of matrimony. That she can override his protest, easily at that, by threatening to take her life if he refuses her touch. That is exactly what happens.
He stiffens when she straddles him, her hands deftly unknotting his dhoti. She, however, is well-versed in the finer arts of sexual touch, and soon, his body lies pliant, aided of course by the potent cocktail she had added in his water.
His eyes are wide pools of brown, disarming in the innocence that still clings to them, even as she has her way with him. She is not done yet, her victory unfinished still.
Keeping her voice sultry, she laughs, loud and free. Hands caressing his body, savouring the shiver she feels under her fingers. “What will you tell your beloved, now?” she breathes, smug. “That you too are just a man, like any other, faithful only in name.”
The light in his eyes dim. As those beautiful brown eyes close, she covets her victory in the defeat she sees in his hazy gaze.
