An: hello bitches, missed you all, been a while huh? Anyway. Be brutal. And tell me if you want more, live youu
Summary: bhalla got hit with an arrow worrying the royal healer..or -his aara
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The moonlight shined through the long windows of the healing wing where the young healer hummed mindlessly as she put away her work, unaware of someone watching her
He stood at the door being mesmerized by the sight infront of him
Bhalla wasn't a person who was easily distracted but she was no ordinary woman was she?
Moonlight graced her face bringing out the shine in her eyes so perfectly
Making his heart almost leap out of his chest and run towards her knowing it was only ever hers to have anyway
He leaned against the doorframe holding the arrow wound with one hand using the other to support his weight against the door
Right now he couldn't care less about the blood covering his right hand, dripping down on the floor increasingly by the second
Right now she occupied all his attention
Who could have thought the simple act of taking a soft tired sigh would make the cruel prince lose his mind
He tried to look away embarrassed and how much she affected him
How she took over all his senses
There was a slight frown on her face as she turned around catching him making his face flush as he looked away
The color drowning from her face making his heart leap to tell her he was okay but it was too late
She was already rushing over making him push off the wall to stand tall, even with a wounded side he
She held his other arm getting him to come inside and sit, he didn't stop her..hell he couldn't even understand what was going on
She was touching him!
Her hands were so soft
He let himself be pulled away from the door eyes mesmerised worried pout on her lips
She walked towards her station getting everything she needed
Her hands were shaking, and he noticed, frowning
What could it be? Worry? For him?
How could such a beautiful being concern herself with worry for such a trivial matter like him?
His eyes were fixed on her fingers, her alta striken fingers, they looked beautiful adorned with little rings
It made him look at his own hand. The rings were larger, more expensive, but his hands were rough, the red on his fingers held blood not beauty unlike her
He couldn't help but want to hold them in his own "yuvraj..?" Her tiny voice made him snap out of his thoughts
It was so muffled tho, he couldn't move without seeing sparkles around her, he had to close his eyes to protect himself from her divine
He got lost in dreaming about his new goddess
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Hours had passed, his eyes fluttered open, his hand immediately going to hold the side of his head
He didn't feel skin making him look at his hand, which was perfectly bandaged up. He winched when he tried to sit up
His eyes met the wound that had led him to her in the first place, all bandaged up
Her...
Her!
Where is she
His eyes moved in search of her
A frown appeared on his face as he looked around, his guard up suddenly
Where was he
He had woken up in a chamber unknown to him
He stumbled a little as he reached the window, the maheshmati sun setting, creating a beautiful hue
He heard the soft sound of payals *chan chan* with a lot of chatter between the women, as well as the bells of the temple
Looking down, it proved he was still in some part of the palace, but where
The sweet sound of payals reached him again, briefly putting his mind to ease
But her eyes fluttered open reaching for his kataar as soon as he realized the sound was coming closer
But there was nothing. He realized most of his jweles and all his weapons were gone
His good hand wrapped around a candlestick swinging it towards the person behind him
His eyes held anger at the unknown surroundings and his weapons being taken away
But his eyes immediately softened at the soft gasp, and the flick of her nosering, her eyes held fear, but her hands were tight around the thal
It looked like she had just come back from arti, the soft blue saree making her look younger than her age with how much glow it brought to her face
"Yuvraj" She bowed her head while he was busy admiring the sight before him. He used the candlestick to tip her chin up so she could meet his eye
"Aratrika" the name rolled off his tongue with ease
Rightfully so, with how many times he had taken it in his head while thinking of her
Her eyes were wide and dark. He was close enough to catch a glimpse of himself in her eyes
The man looked like priest, preaching to his goddess, it was absurd that the goddess looked like she wanted to flee
The corner of his lips curled slightly. "My weapons?" He asked calmly like he wasn't holding a sharp object to her neck
Her breath hitched when she tried to move, and he had the urge of bring out that sound out of her, again and again
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 is set to have an unremovable stain on her life.
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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.
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.
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.
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 the words on the pages.
The store was once her grandmother's, and before that, her great-grandmother's, and before that her great-geart-grandmother's. No-one knew exactly how old it was, but it was a family relic that was passed down to Y/n.
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 'Bahubali.'
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.
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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 Bahubali 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.
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.
Y/n held a unique perspective on the characters.
Y/n possessed a deep respect for Bahubali, his qualities of honour, bravery, and selflessness impressed her. 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 thirst for approval.
While the general populace had harboured hatred and disgust for Bhallaladeva, she 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.
“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, her hazel locks swaying with her dramatic disdain.
“More to him? He’s a murderer, Y/n! He killed his own brother and lusted for his brother's wife, how can you pity someone like him!?” Gowri's grey eyes were full with a sense of determination to prove Bhallaladeva to be a vilian.
“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 get that, 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. He deserved the fate that came to him."
"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.
Rather than hating Bhallaladeva, 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.
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 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.
'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.'
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.
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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!)
(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!
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.”
Summary:'As it continues, as baahu's screams echo hauntingly through the chamber the musical quality to that cry disappears. As baahu tries to smile at him through tears , his glee disappears. As his father's laugh suppresses baahu's cries, his loyalty, that he always thought will be steadfast cracks.'
One moment of curiosity changes the history forever.
Notes:What would happen if bhalla and baahu were real brothers at heart. That's my plot and I am going to include the canon events that changes due to this. Just proof read it once so ignore any mistakes please. Enjoy
Bhalla knew that he should stop pacing. It is unseemly for a prince to be seen out of control, his father said. It was all because of that stupid, idiot, bastartd, son of a bitch baahu's fault. He didn't know what the last two meant but his father said those about baahu so it must be true. His mother loved baahu, even more that her own son, him, but it was his father who supported him, talked about him to his mother against baahu, who always stood by his side. The only job his father had given him was to beat baahu, to show him that bijalladeva's son was superior than any other person and he couldn't even do that. Baahu had to have cheated, because no one could have hit a target that far with the arrow without cheating. Bhalla had lost again, and worse, his father had been there watching. The way his father's smile had turned sour bhalla knew that today was going to get worse for him. He knew the routine by now, as soon as dinner got over he had to go to father's room for his punishment. Just thinking about those belts made him shiver. He wished just for a moment he was in baahu's place where he got to go with kattapa and just have fun. But no, he shouldn't think like that, kattapa was a slave not a family member, so he shouldn't talk to him or give him hugs even though kattapa gave the best hugs in the kingdom save for baahu. But hugs were for wussies and he was a big boy now. He was the future king of Mahismathi and he should face his punishments like a man not cower. And he definitely shouldn't cry. He stubbornly tried to will the tears of anger, it was definitely anger, away.
'Boo' the sudden shout made him jump with a dignified cry. Laughter sounded behind him while he tried to catch his breath. He turned towards it in fury knowing who he was going to see there. Baahu was laughing so hard with tears running down his face and a hand on the pillar to support him.
'Baahu, how many times do I tell you not to do that. You are acting so childish wait till amma hears about this. You are so dead.'
'You are eight years old bhalla, still a child, and what are you going to say to amma, that you cried like a two year old?' And it was said with a smirk that bhalla would love to punch it right out of his face.
'Go away baahu, go play with those slaves, I have more important things to do than talk to you'
Baahu's face hardened. He was usually a cheerful boy but if you ever say something about that idiot kattapa he suddenly turns into a scary person. Bhalla was not afraid of baahu, but after that one time baahu had chased him into the top of a tree after he had insulted kattapa, he usually kept out of baahu's reach if he ever was angry.
'Stop that, I told you before, kattapa is family and the others are our people. Dont insult them'
The or else was left unsaid. Baahu was the scariest when he was defending others. He was so done with this conversation, giving baahu the most filthiest scowl he could manage, he did learn from the best, he turned away sharply neatly side stepping baahu without managing to stumble, which was a first so yay him, he strode gracefully to his father's chambers.
'Bhalla ! Bhalla! Stop. Dont run' came the voice of baahu who had seemed to have followed him.
'Princes dont run you idiot! I'm walking gracefully. Open your eyes wide and see'
'Ok your royal pratness. You dont run. But will you stop for a moment'
'No I wont. Father expects me in his chambers. So go away'
He hoped baahu didnt hear the waver in his voice.
The steps which had been following him till now stopped.
He pushed away the disappointment that rose in him. Everyone knew better than to interfere in his fathers' matters, baahu included. Raising his chin high and clenching his fists tight to stop them from trembling, he strode forward to his fathers room.
*
He should stop crying, he knew, but the most frustrating thing was he just couldn't control it. He was used to it, the screaming, blaming, the insults, even the beating and whipping but it still hurt. The pain lasted for days, but even after the bruises faded the pain still lingered, like a ghost haunting his heart. Father was always so careful, taking care not to leave any bruises anywhere visible that couldn't be covered with his clothes.
A slap to his face made him focus on his father, rousing him from his thoughts while his father had been ranting.
'You wont even listen to me while I am talking. See this is why that useless bastard is able to beat you at every thing. You have shamed me, disappointed me bhalla. Again and again, I've had my expectations on you and you've failed me. You deserve a punishment bhalla. Remember this the next time you are going against that baahubali. Remember to win'
Saying that his father turned to take the whip hanging on the wall. He expected a beating today but the whip… he didnt. The fear that gripped him at the sight of that thing, nothing could ever evoke such an reaction out of him, he was sure.
He loved his father, he really did, but the times he had to be alone with his father and his whip, he wondered if the satan he heard of in the stories looked like his father.
The first hit threw him off balance throwing him on to the floor. A pained cry that he hoped to keep from leaving escaped his lips. He knew the result of making noise during the punishments. As expected the next hit came with much more force than usual. More than the pain from the hits it was the jeering and taunts from his father that made him want to cry. It made him think of running away from home and never coming back again. But this was his father and he does this for bhalla's own good, he has to remind himself of it regularly.
A sudden noise beyond the doors stops his father and makes him put down the whip. The momentary respite comes crashing down when the doors open and baahu enters the room. He sees baahu looking around the room and stopping on him. Sees him examining the wounds and the whip, and watch his face turn to an expression of horror.
'Uncle what have you done???'
Bhalla wants to erase the whole night from his mind. To be seen in such a state by his nemesis, is the utmost humiliation he could ever experience.
It seems baahu wasnt done with expressing his displeasure, after giving his father one of his filthiest looks, baahu rushes to him to help him stand up. Well his father wouldn't have that would he. Rushing, his father grabs hold of baahu and pulls him away from bhalla.
'See here you little scoundrel, this here is my son and what I do with him is none of your business. And if you want to go complain to your precious rajamatha know this, a father has any right to punish his son for shaming the family name'
And baahu does not leave it well alone . Giving a furious little huff he asks.
'And what has bhalla done to shame the family name uncle?'
'He has lost to you, didn't he ?'
And that seems to have shut up baahu. The lost expression on his face was one bhalla would have treasured if it had been present in any circumstance other than this.
Leaving baahu alone his father rounds up on him. Bhalla sees his hands move towards the whip and the words escape from him unbidden.
'Appa no! Not in front of him'
And that seemes to have angered him more if the speed with which the whip strikes him hard.
'STOP IT. STOP IT'
Comes from baahu. Bhalla wants to curse everything bad in this world upon him. Didnt baahu know that it was him, bhalla that has to experience the worsening of the punishments due to his interference.
'Stop it uncle please. It's your own son. And bhalla didnt do anything wrong . please'
There appears a sinister smile in his fathers face as he slowly approaches baahu.
'If it isn't my son's mistake then is it yours baahubali?'
The last word is spat out as his father raises a hand and clenches baahu's chin to meet his eyes.
He sees the turmoil in baahu's face as he battles what to answer. He also sees the resolve forming, for what , he has no idea.
'Yes. Yes it is my fault that I won and bhalla lost.'
The shock that that courses through him is combined with elation. Bhalla may know that that statement was factually false but to hear it from baahu's own mouth no less, it's a red letter day for him.
His father is many things and an opportunist is one of the most important ones.
With glee in his face and laughter accompanying his words his father orders baahu to strip. Bhalla is not given permission to move from his original position and he knows better than to move. So he watches from the centre of the room to where baahu is made to kneel before him, as if an offering to a goddess. The thing was even now baahu has him bet. The fear he knows that ought to come never shows on his face. Baahu just smiles at him as if in a soothing way that just irritates him more. He knows that smile is going to be wiped of that face very fast and he just cant wait for it. Let him experience what bhalla experiences every day and then let's see who is more greater.
The first strike forces an anguished cry from baahu's lips and that is more beautiful that any of Amma's lullabies. Bhalla knows that if he looks into a mirror right now that it'll resemble that of his father's. And he is mostly ok with that.
And then the next hit comes bringing forth more of the cries of hurt.
And then the next.
The next.
The next.
As it continues, as baahu's screams echo hauntingly through the chamber the musical quality to that cry disappears.
As baahu tries to smile at him through tears , his glee disappears.
As his father's laugh suppresses baahu's cries, his loyalty, that he always thought will be steadfast cracks.
And he doesnt know what to even think anymore. As baahu gets hurt in his place and even then trying to comfort him, bhalla's beliefs breaks. He knows it's only baahu, his arch nemesis but still, when baahu cries his heart hurts, and he doesnt know why. He doesnt want to hurt, he wants to rejoice. But watching baahu more than anything he feels a sense of comradeship that he hasn't ever felt in his life.
*****
It is after his father has drunk himself into a stupor. Passed out at the bed bijjaladeva doesn't notice two small figures quietly scurrying away from the room. Bhalla leads them both away from the room, supporting baahu as they escape.
Bhalla doesn't know what came over him. He must have lost his mind, because as soon as his father passed out, he rushed to baahu and spirits him away.
They reach bhallas chambers and bhalla leads baahu to the bed and goes to fetch the salve for bruises. Sitting beside him on the bed bhalla gives him the salve and fixes him with a look.
Baahu doesnt notice it at first , busy trying to reach places to apply the salve. But as soon as he notices it he gives a questioning look back.
' What?? Why are you looking at me like that?'
'You are asking me why I'm looking at you like you are a lunatic. Wht were you thinking you idiot. Why would you do something like that?'
Bhalla knows his voice has risen with every word but he has stopped caring at this point. If he doesnt get the truth now it is he who feels like will go mad.
Baahu doesnt stop his methodical application of the salve and as eons drag by bhallas hands itch to wrap around baahu's throat.
'What else should I have done. You are my brother. Bhalla, what else should I have done?'
As bhalla stares at baahu , who holds his gaze as if trying to implant that piece of knowledge into his mind with his will power alone, he feels free.
It is liberating, to know that there is one person there who will always have your back. So he smiles, a small one that shows how grateful he is to have a brother and watches baahu smile back.
He knows that this moment is important. A change that may affect their future paths altogether.
For the @teambaahubali Summer Challenge Week 2: Bhumi. Meta by Nila for @teammahishmati.
The coronation ceremony starts with a sweeping panorama of Mahishmati, which gives a wonderful imagery of grandeur. The high-toned priest is focused on next, who details the glory of nature surrounding Mahishmati. His gestures are also grand and sweeping, further accenting the same feeling of grandeur. When he announces Bhalla’s name and that it is his coronation, there is a fleeting shot of Bhalla overshadowed by his horses and then the camera focuses on Baahu. It feels that Baahu is the important person here, as opposed to Bhalla, for a moment, which is almost rectified by the camera refocusing on Bhalla’s smug face.
Again, the focus on Bhalla’s face is short, for the camera then sweeps over the army. This is followed by the camera doing swooping shots of the choir singers, none of whom look particularly happy. They are stone faced as they sing, even as their voices echo. The feeling of grandeur is still there, but it is empty, lacking heart in it.
Again, there is a panoramic view of the army and the singers, and then we see Baahu commanding the infantry and the cavalry to bow to the King. The soldiers and their steeds comply, but it looks for all the world that they are bowing to Baahu, not Bhalla, who is nearly invisible on his chariot. This pattern continues as Baahu commands every single unit of the army to salute the King. They do so, with excellent discipline, but there is something lacking anyway.
Baahu marches along, Bhalla’s chariot following. The anthem echoes around them as they pass Devasena. Baahu, fiercely devoted to duty, keeps his eyes on the path. Bhalla, however, has time for glaring disturbingly at Devasena. This is almost an establishing moment for Bhalla, that even in the (apparent) moment of his greatest triumph, he still obsesses over Devasena.
Kattappa’s soldiers pay homage, and Bhalla dismounts. Baahu follows now. He does so attentively, and they ascend the stairs, where Bhalla stands, head high, at the throne, and Baahu at attention at Bhalla’s side. Bhalla does not bow his head as Sivagami crows him, and his oath seems like a formality he is doing. When Bhalla is reading the oath, the camera focuses on the soldiers, perhaps to show that they are in Bhalla’s thoughts.
As Bhalla finishes his oath, his focus is clearly shown on the throne he had coveted, his hands caressing the gold. It is also shown that the people who cheer for Bhalla are either sycophants or soldiers near him. In short, Bhalla is not very popular.
Bijjala looks damn pleased as the hailing of Bhalla takes place, for a moment.
As Sivagami moves towards Baahu, he smiles and bows his head, but it is Sivagami who is cold here. Regardless, his appointment is completed with due ceremony.
Baahu has a moment where he looks hurt before taking the oath. He wipes his expression of his face when he focuses on the common people. The actor pulls it off masterfully.
When Baahu starts off with “I, Amarendra Baahubali,” the common people literally erupt. There is a riot. They want Baahu for their King. Baahu is expressionless as he completes the oath, but his eyes are on the people he has sworn to defend. Even as he is taking his oath, the other royals (read: Devasena and her family) as well as Sivagami are surprised at the ferocity of the commoners as they make it clear that they do not want Bhalla on the throne. Bhalla’s eyes are still on the Gold of the throne before he raises them (if looks could kill, everybody would have died), as everyone takes Baahu’s name. (It is interesting to note that Devasena is sitting with the Kuntalan guests and not the Mahishmatian royal family)
And then, the element that had been missing all along is there. Enthusiasm. There is spontaneity as everyone takes Baahu’s name, the soldiers saluting him of their own accord, Kattappa’s soldiers making impromptu blood oaths. Much like the scene in Baahubali 1 where Baahu’s name alone was enough, here it is enough to shake the Earth itself. The cinematography is very meticulous as it focuses on even the stones shaking. There is a container of turmeric water that spills, symbolizing the loss of auspicious things to come. The eye for detail is beautiful here. Even the seats of the royals, from Bijjala’s throne to Bhalla’s grand throne, are not resistant to the voices of the people.
The reactions of the people involved are also wonderfully shot. Kattappa’s pride, Kumar’s surprise, Sivagami’s shocked suspicion at Baahu’s silence, Bhalla’s envy, everything is clear to see. It is Baahu who closes the scene in a classic Baahu move. When Bhalla’s imperial parasol is falling, Baahu holds it above Bhalla’s head, symbolizing that Baahu himself is at Bhalla’s side. Bhalla is irate at that, but it is a brilliant way to close a masterful scene!
