continuation
"I know you're waiting in the distance (just like you always do)"
part 2
a small, kinda shitty wrap-up for the raisaar!reader chronicles
“There's something going on.”
You had caught Varadha in the hallway. Again.
Through the din of the evening, the ashen braziers and cressets painted you both in orange-red.
With a sigh of your name, the man stopped, not bothering to turn around, focusing on your shadow instead. It was taller than you (by a lot)—almost imposing upon his, despite the distance between the two of you.
“What do you want this time?” You couldn't see his face, but his deep voice had a pleasantly bemused lilt to it, and you knew that he was smiling.
“You're hiding something from me.”
“Haven't you fussed enough?”
You squared your shoulders, not wanting to get distracted by his…whatever it was. Your shadow shifted along with you, as it always does, and you knew Varadha was watching it carefully. “Don't talk to me like that.” You said. “I’m not a child.”
“Really?” Varadha asked, turning his head just enough for you to catch the slope of his nose, the twinkle of his dark lashes. His eyes were fixated on both your shadows, trembling under the flickering torches. “Because you act like one.”
Your gaze bore into the back of his head. You wanted to strangle him with the ashen metal bands around his throat. “You're avoiding the question.”
“Because it's baseless.” He shot back casually. “Do you want to have tea with me?"
“I—” You stopped. “What?”
-—-—-—
Back at the dining table, you sat diagonally across Varadha’s seat. Two steaming cups of tea were placed in front of you. Varadha seemed to be at ease, as if he hadn't a care in the world. He was a strange man, you could attest for that. You never saw vulnerability in him.
(—I’m…not worried that something might happen to me—)
Except that one day. You wanted to see it again. There was a soft unguardedness about him that day that you had never seen. The walls he had put around himself were as impenetrable as Khansaar’s.
“You can drink it, you know.” His velvety voice snapped you out of your reverie. “It's not poisoned.”
“You can drink it, you know.” His velvety voice snapped you out of your reverie. “It's not poisoned.”
“Why would it be poisoned?” You asked, looping your fist around the cup’s body, grounding yourself with the heat.
“The same reason as to why I’d ‘hide’ something from you.” He said simply, primly looping an index around the cup’s handle. “For my own benefit.”
“Killing me won't do you any good.” You said as he took a deep sip. “Deva wouldn't forgive you.” Kohl-lined eyes observed you carefully as you tried to form proper words without getting flustered. “And you can't match him in strength.”
“I know.” He said. “That's why I won't. As for the rest…” He rested his chin on his fist, leaning just a little closer to you. Your nose twitched as you smelled sandalwood and oud on him. “You don't need to worry about it.”
“But I do.” You replied, recoiling from him. “There's a ceasefire going on. You…you know we'd be—”
“Don't.”
Your nostrils flared as you tried to continue, but he stopped you in your tracks with a large, warm hand over your own.
“I’m here.” His voice was low, comforting. “I won't let anything happen to you or your brother. Drink the tea.”
So you did.
-—-—-—
See, you didn't get it.
Varadha, you mean. Sometimes he was poking fun at you at every third thing you said, with Deva not reacting to any of it other than cracking a small smile. Sometimes, he'd exclude you from everything he and Deva did, leaving you in the manor with the mute kid, as if you were a bumbling infant that couldn't defend itself. And sometimes, he'd get so familiar with you. Joking with you, rather than at you.
And then he'd go right back to his complacent remarks about your short temper.
"You okay?” Deva asked you as soon as he saw you sitting alone in the dining room. Varadha had left a few hours ago after you two finished your respective cups.
“Yeah.” You said, still a bit rattled. The back of you “Just…homesick."
Deva sat in the chair beside you. “It's just a matter of time.” He rested a hand on your shoulder. “Do you want me to ask Varadha to send you back?”
You shook your head.
“You shouldn't have come.” He said. “This is no place for—"
“—for what, Deva?” You snapped. You seemed to be doing that a lot more nowadays.
“Kid, calm down—”
“—everyone's treating me like a liability when I'm just here for you.” You said, turning away from him, folding your arms.
Your brother—the big oaf—grinned at you, nudging you with a broad shoulder. “I don't need protection.”
Melting a little, you smiled in return.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
-—-—-—
“I don't think that's how it works.”
Varadha had a complacent smile on his face as you sat across from him. The two of you were in his chambers—seated around a chess table made from ash wood and some other fancy materials. Eyeballing it, you were half-sure that his bedsheets were made of silk. For someone who considered himself to be oppressed by his peers, you really didn't see anything wrong with his lifestyle.
The only reason you held your tongue was because of the constant humiliation he had to face because of you and Deva.
Anyways, to your current conundrum.
You were talking with Baachi and Baba when—out of nowhere—Varadha had asked you to play a game of chess with him. The newfound attention he placed towards you was…strange, but not unwelcome, since Deva was almost always out, or sleeping like a log. Baachi tried to argue, but shut up as soon as Baba shot him a strange look.
In any case, you accepted and were promptly chaperoned by Varadha to his chambers. Hm.
You weren't too familiar with how chess worked, other than how the pieces moved. So, your strategy was to take each and every one of Varadha’s pieces like you were playing checkers. Not very effective if you wanted a checkmate.
You replied, unimpressed, “I'm trying my best here.”
Eyes flitting over the board, Varadha stifled a laugh behind his hand. “I can see that.”
“You're laughing.”
“Just…” Varadha paused. “Admiring the…unique strategy.”
You began to rise from the chair. “Alright, I'm going to go—”
“Sit.” There it was again. The way he could say something so mundane and make it sound like an imperial command. It made you wonder why the old Karta didn't make him the heir. “We can play a different game.” He said simply.
You slowly lowered yourself back down on the wooden seat, a guarded look in your eyes. “What's that supposed to mean?” You asked. “If you're going to pull out Snakes & Ladders like I’m some kind of three year old, I must dec—”
Varadha laughed this time, catching you off-guard. A regal, airy sound. “No, no.” He waved his hand. “I call it ‘let’s get to know [name] Raisaar’.”
“Well, that's boring.” You picked up one of the white pieces. A queen. “I already know [name] Raisaar.”
“I don't.”
“You've seen me as a baby—”
“—yes, but I'm sure you don't find amusement in beating me with spoons anymore.”
You cracked a smile. “I haven't tried it yet.”
It was Varadha’s turn to look unimpressed this time. “Do you want to do this or not?”
Well, not really. But it seemed that the outwardly princely man had a penchant for bothering the two of you—the two Raisaars, that is—to quench his own boredom. “Can I bargain?"
Varadha cocked an eyebrow. “Bargain?”
“You get one question, I get one. I don't want to be the only one getting interrogated.” You said. “Sounds fair?”
He thought for a moment, eyes darting to the queen in your hands, then released a breath. “Fair enough.” He said. “Favourite colour?”
You answered.
Varadha hummed knowingly.
"What?” You asked, feeling defensive already.
"A little unexpected, don't you think?”
“I don't know.” You crossed your arms. “It’s my turn. What's your favourite film?”
“It changes all the time.”
“I guess it's the same with books?”
He nodded. Then, suddenly, “Are you dating anyone?”
“What.”
“What kind of music do you listen to?”
You blinked. It was hard to keep up with his seemingly-innocuous questions that sounded more like a cross-examination. “Anything that sounds nice. That's two questions.”
He shrugged. “You asked me twice, too.”
“That was a follow-up question!”
“Doesn't matter. Go ahead.”
“...are you dating anyone?”
“No.”
The seamless answer stunned you a little. “Seriously?”
Varadha flicked the king’s piece on his side, letting it fall and roll across the board. “I have better things to do.”
“I'm sure.”
“My turn.” Varadha looked down at the fallen king, then at the queen’s piece in your hand, then directly at you. “Biggest fear?”
The sudden shift of the tone of questions, and Varadha’s unchanged demeanour almost gave you whiplash. “What?”
“Is that all you know how to say?”
You paused. Your biggest fear? There wasn't much that you were afraid of. Except…
You spoke. “Losing the people I care about, I guess?”
Varadha chuckled. “That’s a little disappointing.” There was a hint of a sardonic jab in his words, supplemented by the way he looked at you, eyes flitting up and down.
You felt your jaw tick. “Can I change my answer?”
“I can't believe this is the second time I’m saying this,” Varadha began, lifting his chin in a haughty manner, “but I don't think that's how this works.”
“It is, now.” You said. “Anyways, my biggest fear is not beating you with spoons—”
-—-—-—
It became a pattern, of sorts. Whenever you would try to converse with anyone except Deva or Baba, Varadha would come up to you from somewhere in this labyrinth of a manor and swindle you away—either to his chambers to play chess or to the garden on the terrace, asking you for your opinions on the Bougainvilleas, despite your lack of knowledge on botany.
“For the last time, I don't know.” You said, exasperated at his insistence that, surely, you had something to say about the flowers. “Do I look like a botanist to you?”
The sun had set a few hours ago, and the harsh skyline of Khansaar didn't look too terrible from here.
Varadha, with a broad hand on the small of your back, leading you through the walk like a ‘gentleman’ as if it wasn't just his terrace, sighed with annoyance. “Are expressions such as ‘that looks lovely’ and ‘oh, so beautiful’ beyond the words you can string together?”
“You're an ass.” You mumbled, then looked over the eye-wateringly bright flowers again. “They're fine, I guess.”
“I'll take that as the highest order of compliments you can give.” He said with a playful push to the dip of your spine.
Stumbling a few steps forward at that, you huffed, “I didn't know you liked gardening.” The place where his hand was seemed to grow slightly colder with its absence.
“I don’t.” He said, a little quieter. “I’m told that my mother did.”
Oh.
When you turned your head at him, he was observing the flowers with a sombre expression. “I’m sorry.” You said.
That seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. Varadha batted a hand in the air to dismiss your concerns. “Don’t worry about it.” He replied breezily. “I just let the servants take care of it.”
“Varadha—”
“Let's go downstairs, you still haven't beaten me at chess.”
-—-—-—
"If I didn't know any better," you had said to Varadha on one of the days he had 'abducted' you to play chess with him, "I'd think you like being around me."
The Mannar, who was trying to teach you how to actually play chess, didn't have anything snarky to reply with, simply laying out the black and white pieces on the board.
-—-—-—
“You've been getting pretty cozy with Varadha.” Deva said to you as the two of you were sitting at a tiny old tea stall with a tin roof with Baba by your side. The sun was blistering-hot that afternoon, and the old man had taken you both for a refuge here. You were beginning to suspect that he was Varadha's eyes and ears whenever the two of you were out of his sight.
Taking a sip from the small glass pinched between your forefinger and thumb, you replied, “I don't know what you mean.” The tea was awfully sweet.
“Nothing to be worried about, kid.” Baba coughed with a strained voice, taking a sip of his own tea. “Maybe he just wants to catch up with the little one, right?”
“I’m not a little—”
Deva set his glass down. “I don't like it.” He said, and frowned when he saw Baba’s barely-hidden smile. “No, I'm serious. He seems to like you a bit too much.”
You mirrored his expression. “There’s no way I’m having this conversation with you, Deva.”
After a brief, contemplative silence from Deva’s side, he said, “...do you want me to talk to him?”
Your palm met your forehead, and you massaged your temples. “Please don't give Varadha the shovel talk for trying to spend time with me, Deva.”
“I wasn't about to.” He raised his hands just a little, in a decidedly uninterested show of peace. “I just don't like him getting so…friendly with you.” His eyes caught you, and you saw concern in them. “He doesn't get friendly with people easily.”
“But the two of you are different.” Baba reassured Deva with a wrinkly hand on his broad shoulder. “He trusts you. Both of you.”
“And I trust him too.” Deva grumbled, picking his glass up and finishing the steaming liquid in a gulp, leaving you and Baba looking at him like he was a heathen.
-—-—-—
You couldn't find your brother.There was the distant drumming of a percussion instrument, the shuffling of feet and—above you, a singular, colourful kite flying off into the slums. Following the kite as a marker, you set off on your feet.
-—-—-—
Varadha Rajamannar considered himself to be a very good tactician. It was just that he failed to notice the fact that, if the Khansaar nobles couldn't calculate Deva, he couldn't either.
And that small mistake had led to this.
Vishnu was impaled from the chin on a spear, like the head of a noble from the French Revolution. Deva stood, breathing deeply from the commotion as the women around him parted, letting the eldest Mahara to stumble up to him, touching him with the stubs of her index and middle fingers.
Deva gave a start, moving away from her swiftly.
The elderly woman looked up at him, crows’ feet crinkling as she frowned. “Just checking to see if you were real…”
He looked down, feeling a chill run down his spine as he saw your shadow approaching, then trembling for a moment before collapsing to the floor.
-—-—-—
The heavy van rattled as it carried Varadha, Deva, you and the others—most likely to be locked into a cell until a time could be set for the court hearing.
When you looked up, you could see Varadha’s gaze fixated on Deva, as if he was calculating something in his mind. It wasn't long before he glanced at you, still observing, but a little more apologetic.
He said your name quietly. Deva didn't stir, as if he couldn't hear the man across him at all. “Listen, I—”
“Please don’t.”
-—-—-—
Deva had cut off Narang’s head. For Varadha, no less.
All of you had been given the penalty of death.
In the cold end of the prison cell, you curled further into yourself, your chainlinks and anklets tinkling in unison.
-—-—-—
You felt faint.
You don't remember how long you've been fighting off these dogs for. No matter how many times your fists found flesh, these man-shaped creatures would get back up again. Biting, clawing, scratching at any semblance of life.
They all seemed to have disappeared now, only turning up as stray corpses strewn on the streets.
Absently, you wondered what had happened.
Your blood gushed in your ears, eyes beginning to droop with exertion. You'd have fallen over your feet if a pair of hands didn't steady you, pulling you close to an unfamiliar chest. You sagged like a bag of sand. “Varadha?”
“It's okay.” A low voice murmured to you. “I’m here.”
You felt a sob claw at your chest. “Varadha.” You grabbed at his arms, trying to get your legs to work. “What happened? Where's Deva?”
“Are you okay?” Varadha lowered you to the ground, crouching into his haunches with you. “Tell me you're okay.”
“M’okay.” You breathed, not really sure about that. Your chest hurt with sharp bursts. There were claw marks everywhere you could fathom, your nose was definitely broken and your face was swollen with dark, purpled bruises. “Where is he?”
“He's…safe.”
"The others?"
"They're with him." Varadha said. "I came to look for you."
The dam of your resilience broke. Varadha held you closely as you began to feel your tears fall freely.
You turned in his arms, balling your hands into fists on his chest. “What do we do?” You sniffled, eyes burning with tears as you looked at your own knuckles, split and bleeding.
Varadha dipped his head to meet your gaze. “I'll tell you everything when we get back." He was as covered in blood as you were, if not more. There seemed to be a generous lathering of red paint on him too, courtesy of Ranga, you assumed. You had heard the man’s insane ravings about the ‘creatures’ he had created when you were locked in the cell. “It's not safe for you—us to be out here.”
And it really wasn't—you could hear another wave of those rabid, animal-men clambering down the street from far away.
"Careful."
You were too tired to fight anymore, letting Varadha scoop you up in a bridal carry with your arm around his shoulders.
As soon as your feet left the ground, you passed out, eyelids drooping to the sight of blue-green dripping from your cuts.
-—-—-—
FIN.
-—-—-—
English isn't my first language and yet I am not living up to the stereotype ✊😞 call that 'na ghar ka na ghaat ka'
but hey i FINALLY finished this beastie. this just ended up being 'varadha spends time with you and also deva merks a man'
IM SO SORRY I ROBBED YALL OF THE CONFESSION I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO FIT IT INNNN 😭😭😭🙏🙏🙏🙏
maybe another part? (I jest...id rather work on smth else so I don't burn out my interest for salaar it's just such a good film)
statutory reminder that all my fics here are mostly rough drafts that I plan to post on ao3 OR Wattpad, so pls give criticism (both constructive and, like whatever your brain can make up). also I am a shitposter who has just started dabbling in fanfic writing instead of fanfic consumption. in any case if this is shite (which it is lmfaooo) please shoot me out back in the comments
if I end up making a polished version y'all best believe I'm blessing (read: cursing) y'all with it
i apologise profusely for any quality problems 😭🙏
taglist (is it a list if it's just one person lmfaoooo)
@idcbru
