An Aditha Karikalan-Nandini o/s
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a/n: canon divergent :)
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It had been three days since he and his siblings had landed at Thirumalai’s house. Kundavai was overjoyed — she had finally escaped the confines of Thanjai and arrived at a much more peaceful place, one where they wouldn’t be followed by a huge crowd or a group of soldiers tracking their every move — and while Arulmozhi was twelve years old and extremely intelligent for his age, he didn’t understand where they were or why they were there. He was enjoying the attention everyone showered on him, and rightfully so, he was the baby of the family.
Only Aditha knew why they had chosen to spend time away from the palace. It was a few days before his deployment at the northern border, a place where the rules of combat were seldom followed, and where the kingdom had faced its largest number of deaths. This was his parents’ way of ensuring that they spent as much time as they could with him, and, in the process, get some insider information about how the kingdom was functioning from Thirumalai, who was one of the country’s most seasoned spies.
The agenda for the rest of his life had been planned out the second he was born — he would return to Thanjai, be sent off in a ceremony befitting a warrior, and would fight for his kingdom while his parents, sister and family found suitable brides for him. In the small pockets of time he would return home, he would be married to accomplished princesses from allied kingdoms or chieftains, and warm their bed for a few days before he left for another war. Kundavai had told him that this was the duty of the Crown Prince; to learn the arts of strategy, war, administration and take Chola Nadu to higher heights, and to ensure its succession by having enough children who would, in turn, carry the legacy of the kingdom forward.
As much as he loved Chola Nadu, the land that had nurtured him from the time he could crawl, his duty as Crown Prince to ensure the succession irked him. He knew how it worked — he wasn’t a child anymore — but the thought of marrying someone for the sole purpose of having kids with her was not something he enjoyed. It was common custom amongst the Cholas for princes and kings to marry princesses from different kingdoms and beget many children with them, and though Aditha knew that all wives and all children were loved equally, he couldn't stomach the thought of loving more than one person for the rest of his life. Love, to him, was a phenomenon that happened either once or not at all, and the last thing he wanted to do was love just one person but marry and sleep with others for the sake of it. He didn’t deserve it, and neither did they. He would rather die a soldier, a commander, and one of the finest leaders of the Chola army than be remembered as a king with many wives and even more children.
Restless, he swung his legs off the cot and peeked outside his tent. The security outside was lax at best; there were at least six points from where he could sneak out unnoticed. His parents had expressly forbidden him to leave the ground in which they had set up their quarters, citing supposed concern for his wellbeing as the Crown Prince, but they knew that that would only spur him on to find a way to leave this suffocating place.
The camp slept in unsuspecting silence — his parents were fast asleep in their tent, decorated with lavish gold embroidery with four men standing guard, Kundavai was in a tent of her own, and so was Arulmozhi. The rest of the tents were filled with snoring guards who would take over the current ones in the morning, and the only noise came from the crackling of fire a few metres away from him.
Effortlessly, Aditha snuck out, only relaxing his footsteps when he was sure no one could hear him. He kicked the stones lining the path carelessly, reveling in the feeling of dewy grass caressing his feet. A stray fly flew in his way now and then, but he wasn’t perturbed; he was walking freely for once, almost like the rules that bound him had loosened their grip for a few hours before they were placed on his shoulders once again. He could forget that he was a prince and live like a normal person for a few seconds, someone whose name was unrecognisable for anything but his feats and valour.
The soft sound of ripples shook him out of his thoughts as he pushed past some vines, only to reveal a lake — still and veiled by the night. Moonlight slashed across its surface, and faint pinpricks of the stars’ reflections were there too, scattered and wavering with each stir of the breeze. The air was cool and damp, thick with the scent of leaves and wet earth. Trees pressed close on every side, their branches drooping low, trying to hide the lake from the world. Nothing broke the quiet; only the soft lap of water against rock, and the slow settling of the night around him.
Aditha touched the water, feeling it caress his finger. There was really no harm in going for a late night swim, was there? He hadn’t brought a towel to dry himself with, but the air wasn’t humid, and he figured the breeze would dry him by the time he reached the camp again. It wasn’t the first time he had snuck out — he was known to slip away from the palace during the night and explore the city under the guise of a traveller — but this was definitely one of the last, for once he was crowned Crown Prince, every action of his would be under scrutiny, and there was no way he would get away with his late night antics.
This was one of his last nights of effective freedom, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
Slipping off his upper clothes, he slowly descended into the water and took a deep, shuddering breath. The water was cooler than he expected, but as it lapped against his chest, he felt his body adjust to its temperature. He smiled, glad there was nobody to watch or judge him, and started swimming to the other end, pausing now and then to glance at the fish that swam under him.
He was halfway across when he froze. A rustle cut through the stillness, followed by the sound of water shifting where it shouldn’t. His head snapped toward the shore.
Someone else was in the lake.
Shaking off the water from his eyes, he searched for the source of the sound. He had checked carefully to ensure no one was around, and yet, this person had escaped his eyes, or decided to come when he was busy swimming. Then, from between the reeds, there was a faint movement, like a creature was trying very hard to be silent. He stilled. His eyes shifted across the water, settling at last on a pair of wide eyes — soft, startled, and bright as a doe’s in the dark.
Mangai maanvizhi ambukal en maarthulaithathenna?
Mangai maanvizhi ambukal en maarthulaithathenna?
Her coral lips were parted in slight surprise as she stood frozen, body half submerged in the lake. Her curly hair was undone, and Aditha caught sight of a few flowers on her long tresses. He met her eyes again, framed by long eyelashes that caught the moonlight like fine threads of silver.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The water rippled softly around them, carrying the faint scent of lilies from where her hair brushed its surface. Aditha’s chest tightened — whether from the cold or from something else, he didn’t know — and the world beyond the lake fell away, leaving only her gaze, wide and unguarded, fixed on his.
Paandi naadanai kanda en udal passaley kondathenna?
Nandini blinked, startled. She did not expect the pattern of her usual nightly swim to be broken by a strange man in the water, much less one who looked as regal as him. The moon shone light on his chiseled face, highlighting hard eyes, the curve of a small nose, and plump lips that had pressed into a thin line. A jagged scar ran across the left side of his face, starting from where his curls hid his forehead and tracing a path across his eyelid, cheek and disappearing into his stubble, which shaped his clenched jaw.
He didn’t speak — just watched her, the muscles in his shoulder taut under the moonlight. Something in his gaze was sharp, cautious, but not unkind. His presence was something both new and oddly familiar, like the smell of newly blooming flowers, and that scared her.
Nillaavillai paartha vannum
Kanaaville thondrum innum
Nillaavillai paartha vannum
Kanaaville thondrum innum
Never before had Aditha seen someone so ethereal.
He had been surrounded by beauty all his life; his sister and her companions were objectively beautiful, and so were his cousins and half-siblings. His father was called Sundara Chozhar, alluding to his beauty that shone even in his old age, and his mother was known to be one of the most gorgeous princesses of her day. He was no stranger to noting how pretty some people were, but that observation was always detached, because he had never been affected by it.
This stranger, though? She was unreal, an apsara who had been shaped by the night’s silence. Her skin caught the faint glow of the lake, turning gold into shining silver, while her curls clung to her back like dark silk. The flowers in her hair had begun to wilt, yet they only made her look more otherworldly, like a dream slipping between waking and sleep. When she moved, it was with a quiet grace that stirred the ripples around her but made no sound, as if even the lake conspired to keep her presence a secret. Her image was burned in his brain, and Aditha just knew that there was nothing in the world that could make him ever forget it.
llaithaen thudithaen porruka villai
Idaiyil meghallai irrukavillai
Overcome by a sudden wave of shyness, Nandini tore her gaze away from his eyes and dove into the water. The fish offered some comfort, forming patterns under the water, but even under the veil of the lake, she could feel his eyes search for her. She tried to avoid his sight, more out of morals than a lack of comfort, but, unconsciously, she looked for him with every turn, having only the water’s movement as a guide.
Narumugaye, narumugaye
Nee oru naazhigai nillai
As soon as she disappeared under the water, Aditha felt the urge to follow her every movement. He wanted her to stop and just look at him once more. It was against everything his royal education had told him to do — having a romantic moment with anyone apart from a wife was expressly forbidden, much less someone he knew nothing about — but something drew him to her, like she was the purpose he had spent his life searching for.
Sengani ooriya vaai thirandhu
Nee oru thirumozhi sollai
Snapping out of his trance, he continued swimming to the other bank, wondering whether she would even see him, let alone speak to him, again. He longed to hear her voice — was it soft, like the whisper of water against rock, or would it carry the strength that her gaze had held? The thought lingered as he reached the shore, each stroke heavy with the weight of her absence. He paused once, glancing back at the lake. It lay calm now, as if she had never been there at all, and yet he could not shake the feeling that something in him had shifted, gently and irreversibly as the tide.
Attrai thingal annilavil
Kotra poigai aadugaiyil
Ottrai paarvai paarthavanum neeya?
Nandini rose from the water once more, allowing herself another glance at the handsome stranger. He was near the shore now, leaning against the bank, his body half afloat. Droplets slid down his skin, catching the moonlight in fleeting sparks that traced the lines of his arms as they flexed when he folded them across his chest. He wasn’t the sort of man who tended temple gardens, that much was clear — and he certainly wasn’t one of the marketplace traders, for she would have remembered a face like his. There was something vaguely familiar about him, though, and her not knowing what it was sat uneasily in her mind.
Attrai thingal annilavil
Netrai tharala neer vadiya
Kotra poigai aadiyaval neeya?
His eyes caught hers again, and Aditha held her gaze without restraint. There was no hesitation now, no urge to feign indifference, no voice in his head nagging at him to stop what he was doing and return to the camp immediately. The distance between them seemed to thin, the quiet of the lake folding around them, like even nature wanted to witness this play.
The moon shone even more brightly on her, illuminating her in a silvery halo. He could see her properly now — her skin was pale where the light kissed it, her hair falling like a sheet behind her, save a few wet strands that found purchase on her neck. Her features were soft yet striking: a small, straight nose, full coral lips that seemed to hold a whole universe in its words, and deep hazel eyes, shimmering with the faint light of the stars reflected on the lake. The moon, for all its brightness, seemed dull beside her; its light only lent her its glow, as though even it knew who the night truly belonged to.
Yaayum yaayum yaaragiyero nenjil nerthathena?
Yaayum yaayum yaaragiyero nenjil nerthathena?
Nandini slowly moved towards him, taken over by some sort of trance. Her movements were her own but also weren’t, like her Govinda had finally given someone the permission to enter her carefully guarded heart. She wasn’t going to touch him — she still had some sense of propriety — but she wanted to be near enough to see if he was real, to see if the light that played across his face was a trick of the moonlight or something he carried within him. The water shifted gently around her as she drew closer, each ripple brushing against his still form before fading into the dark. Her breath caught; he was watching her, unmoving, the faintest trace of wonder softening the sharpness in his gaze.
Yaanum neeyum evvazhiyarithum uravu saernthathena?
Aditha pinched himself under the water, unsure of whether this was a dream or the maiden who had captured his heart was walking toward him. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other, but he hoped his eyes had done all the talking. He knew she wasn’t going to touch him, and he definitely wasn’t going to touch her, but her swan-like gait stirred something in him as he started moving towards her too, pulled by an invisible string neither fate or reason could sever.
Orae oru theendal seithaai
Uyir kodi pookathenna
Orae oru theendal seithaai
Uyir kodi pookathenna
Nandini stopped herself when they were barely a foot apart, her heart pounding in her chest. Butterflies had taken flight in her stomach as her cheeks flushed the colour of the lotuses she so carefully grew and offered everyday in the temple, clearly affected by her proximity to someone who had awoken a flurry of emotions in her. She could see him clearly now — water clung to his eyelashes as he looked down at her, framing dark eyes that could have anyone quivering in fear in an instant.
They were standing in the shallow part of the lake now, enough for her to figure out that his feet were planted on the ground. He drew himself to his full height, and she found herself looking up at him as he gazed down at her, arms still submerged. He was very tall, easily taller than her parents and brother, and was more muscular than she thought, with little scars littered across his collarbones. But, despite his rugged appearance, Nandini could gather one thing: there was something soft about him, an aura of kindness and warmth that radiated from him and circled her through the water.
Before she knew it, one of his fingers had unconsciously brushed the curve of her waist, and their eyes widened in unison, terrified that the fragile spell between them had shattered. She stepped back at once, and so did he, but the spell held, like the night itself refused to let them go.
Sembulam saertha neer thuli pol
Ambudai nensham kalanthathena
In that moment, something had fundamentally changed in Aditha, something that had laid dormant for sixteen years had finally awoken, and every fiber of his being hummed with certainty — his heart was branded by this apsara in human form, and, even though he didn’t know her name, every breath of his was her doing, and he had so freely fallen into the trap of whatever the gods had set for him. He was a prince, and she was probably a commoner, but none of that mattered, because, in the still water, the world beyond them ceased to exist. The titles, the duties — all dissolved into the soft gleam of moonlight and the rhythm of his heartbeat. For the first time in his life, Aditha felt both utterly lost and wholly found, bound not by crown or command, but by the pull of a gaze that had undone him more completely than any blade ever could.
Thirumagane, thirumagane,
Nee oru naazhigai paaraai
An owl hooted in the distance, snapping Nandini out of her daze. Awareness flooded back all at once — the chill of the water, the weight of his gaze, the absurdity of it all. They were just two teenagers, strangers bound by a moment that made no sense, standing in a lake as if they were lovers meeting in secret, hearts racing in a place where discovery would mean ruin. He was still looking at her, though, like he had seen her heart through her eyes and read her deepest secrets. Heat rose to her cheeks despite the cold, and she turned away, unsure whether to swim, speak, or simply disappear.
Vennira puraviyil vandavane
Velvizhi mozhigal kaelaai
Her eyes widened in shock as her memory finally put a name to his face, and she stumbled back a step, the water rippling sharply around her. This movement broke whatever trance he was in, and he blinked, startled. She had seen him cross this very lake three days ago on a white steed, curly hair falling into his eyes, sword tucked into his sheath, followed by an entourage of soldiers and two palanquins. He was no ordinary traveller; he was the eldest son of the house her family was hosting, and, more importantly, the future Crown Prince of Chozha Nadu. And here she was, chest deep in water with him, breathless and transfixed under the same moon.
Attrai thingal annilavil
Kotra poigai aadugaiyil
Ottrai paarvai paarthavanum neeya?
A soft gasp escaped her lips when she realised the predicament she was in, and she swiftly swam away from him, memories flooding her mind. She was bathing with her friends on that day, too engrossed in play to fully register who was riding on the banks of the lake. She had felt his eyes on her for a moment, but he clearly had just viewed her as no one spectacular, no one worth making note of.
She was supposed to be sharing a room with his sister in a few days’ time — what on earth had she been thinking? The realization struck her like cold water. How was she ever going to face the princess now, knowing she had shared a moment like that with her elder brother, the very man whose name must already be whispered in marriage talks, whose future was likely being written in gold and politics? Nandini’s stomach twisted with dread and disbelief; she wanted to sink beneath the water and let the ripples erase the memory of her foolish heart.
Attrai thingal annilavil
Netrai tharala neer vadiya
Kotra poigai aadiyaval neeya?
Aditha felt like he had been struck by lighting when the realisation of what he was doing finally crashed onto him, but strangely, he didn’t feel unnerved. Kundavai had mentioned Thirumalai’s sister a few times, and while the maiden who had stolen his heart matched the description eerily well, her identity was yet to be confirmed. He had caught a glimpse of her when he had arrived — a whiff of her jasmine covered tresses here, a laugh there — but nothing concrete, nothing enough to form a lasting impression on his heart. It was almost like the gods themselves were saving their first interaction for this moment, where they would be left alone and could just gaze at each other for some time, fully taking in the other’s beauty in its rawest form, under the moonlight, surrounded by water, and only the fish and birds to keep them company.
He followed her disappearing form with his eyes, too stunned to move, but a part of him was calling out to her, to stay, to wait, to grace him with those doe eyes once more. For, in his mind, one thing was clear: he was hers, wholly and irrevocably hers, and no family, politics or destiny could ever change that.
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