When the wedding day arrived, my heart pounded so furiously that it felt like it might leap out of my chest. I had pestered Bhalla all week about when Baahu and Deva would arrive, and his vague responses had only added to my growing anxiety.

Yesterday, the people of Kuntala arrived—Kumar, Jayasena, and Devasena's sister-in-law. Seeing them again had been both a comfort and a dagger. Especially Kumar, whose piercing gaze practically shot daggers at Bhalla when they crossed paths.

Last night, I had the opportunity to meet with them. It was a brief but heartfelt conversation with the people who treated me as their own. They deserved to know at least some of what I had planned. But I had to tread cautiously.

Kumar, as expected, was not having it. "Are you being blackmailed? Forced into this?" he demanded, his voice low but firm, his eyes full of fire. 

"If you are, just say the word. We'll take you away from here. Mahishmati be damned."

I shook my head. "You can't. Even if you did, Mahishmati is bigger and stronger. Any rebellion against it would only bring suffering to Kuntala. The people would struggle, and the kingdom would fall. I can't let that happen."

Jayasena, who had remained quiet, finally spoke, his voice heavy with concern. "Why are you doing this, my dear? You're not someone who values material possessions over the well-being of people. We're genuinely worried for you."

Kumar nodded in agreement, his expression a mix of frustration and worry.

"This is my fate," I replied softly. "But it's not without purpose. Baahu and Deva will be here for the wedding, and I see that as a small victory."

"Victory?" Kumar asked, his brow furrowing. "How is this a win?"

"Bhalla accepted my choice to have them attend. That alone is a crack in his resolve. If I can make this happen, then in time, we can bring Baahu and Deva back to Mahishmati for good. Not just as guests, but to see them rightfully crowned."

Kumar's expression shifted, the slightest hint of a smile forming. "You have a sharp strategy," he said approvingly.

Devasena's sister-in-law, however, was still uneasy. "Even if you're confident in this plan, Bhalla can be dangerous. What if something happens to you?"

I gave her a sad smile. "I'll take care of it. Whatever comes, I'll handle it. But you must promise me that this stays between us. Baahu and Deva cannot know about any of this."

The group exchanged glances before nodding in agreement.

***

As I sat there, my body washed clean with milk and rose petals, my hair massaged with fragrant oils, and my skin wrapped in the finest silk, I closed my eyes and let the moment's weight settle over me. The scent of roses and sandalwood filled the air, and my hair was adorned with jewels and flowers. I never imagined my wedding would be like this—away from the people I love, marrying someone I never thought I would, a man I once saw as a villain.

My thoughts were interrupted by a soft touch on my shoulder. I gasped and opened my eyes, only to see a reflection in the mirror that I hadn't expected.

Devasena.

Her face radiated grace, love, and strength. Her sharp, queenly eyes softened with warmth as she smiled. I turned around in disbelief and threw myself into her arms, hugging her tightly.

"Oh, Deva, I missed you so much," I whispered, my voice breaking as tears filled my eyes.

She chuckled softly, her own eyes glistening as she cupped my cheeks. Her touch was gentle and comforting, yet it carried the weight of all she had endured.

I stepped back to take her in, noticing her simple attire. She wore an old, plain sari without jewels, yet her pregnancy glow outshone any ornament. She looked content, but this only made my heart ache more.

I turned and removed the other helpers and people inside the chamber, as I only needed my Deva with me.

"Why are you still wearing this old sari? Let me give you something new—something beautiful," I pleaded.

Devasena shook her head and smiled. "This is my life now. I live as my husband does and endure as he endures."

Her words struck a deep chord, and my lips trembled as fresh tears spilt. Baahu and Deva deserved so much more than this.

"Now," she said gently, brushing my tears away, "today is not about me. Let's focus on you."

Deva moved quickly, selecting the finest jewels from the piles before us. She then adorned me piece by piece, lining my eyes with kajal and dabbing behind my ear to ward off the evil eye.

I kept waiting for her to ask questions, to scold me or express anger. But she didn't. She just smiled—a serene, knowing smile.

"Aren't you mad at me?" I whispered hesitantly, lowering my eyes, ashamed to meet hers.

Her hands were warm and steady as they lifted my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. They glistened with tears but were full of understanding.

"Mad? At you?" she whispered. "Are you crazy?"

She placed the mang tikka delicately on my forehead and continued, "How could I be mad at my sister for marrying and becoming queen?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "But you're the one who's supposed to be queen, and Baahu should be king—not Bhalla."

Devasena chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Baahubali is king wherever he is, and my life is happiest. And you, my dear, are destined for much more than you realize. I could never be mad at you."

Her words enveloped me like a warm embrace, but then her gaze turned sharp, piercing into my soul. "All I want to know is this: are you happy? Are you doing this willingly?"

Her question hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. I felt the weight of her concern and love and knew I couldn't hide the truth from her.

I couldn't spill everything out—not here, not now. Maybe later. I just nodded, looking as shy and demure as possible. But I could see it in Deva's eyes—she didn't fully buy it. Still, she said nothing, simply focusing on helping me get ready.

My breath hitched when she finished and led me out of the chamber. Standing just outside was a figure with such a commanding, strong presence that I felt a familiar pull in my chest.

Baahubali.

Even in his worn, simple cotton dhoti, with a shawl draped loosely over his broad shoulders, he looked like the king he was born to be. His smile widened as our eyes met.

"Baahu," I whispered, running to him and wrapping my arms around his strong frame. He hugged me back, his hand gently patting my back and his lips pressing a warm kiss to my forehead. His affection was like that of a father to his daughter—a pure love made my heart ache.

"Well," he said, his voice rich with warmth, "we couldn't let you get married without giving you a gift."

He pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a cotton cloth and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a delicate gold chain, more like a bracelet.

"I found this in the market," he said, his smile softening, "and I hope it will be your good luck charm."

He gently tied it around my wrist. Tears spilt from my eyes as I looked at the two of them—Baahu and Deva—two people so pure, so kind, who deserved so much more than the life they had been given.

As we made our way to the wedding arena, I held on to Deva and Baahu's hands like lifelines. The moment's weight pressed on my chest, making breathing hard. My heart pounded so fiercely that I feared I might drop dead then and there. Part of me even wished I would.

Bhalla stood at the centre of the grand stage, his piercing eyes fixed on us as we approached. I could feel the tension in the air—his anger towards Baahu and Deva was palpable. But then, his gaze shifted to me, and something changed.

In his eyes, I saw more than just anger. A softness, a longing, a quiet vulnerability made my steps falter. He looked at me as though I were the only person in the world, as though I were his salvation.

And just like that, it happened.

The rituals unfolded in a blur, the priests' chants echoing through the arena. Bhalla tied the three sacred knots around my neck, sealing our union as flower petals rained from above. The trumpets of elephants sounded in celebration, and the crowd's cheers filled the air.

A simple girl from the 21st century had just married one of the most infamous villains she had once watched on her screen.

And in that moment, as the world celebrated, I couldn't tell if I was stepping into a dream or a nightmare.

***

My body shuddered with nervousness as they finished preparing me for my wedding night with the King of Mahishmati. My stomach churned, and I felt like I might vomit.

I clung to Deva's hand as she prepared to leave me alone in the elaborately decorated chamber. I had settled stiffly on the bed, but my heart raced, my palms clammy.

"Please, don't leave me," I whimpered, holding her hand tightly, desperate for her comfort.

A soft chuckle left her lips as she knelt beside me, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

"What's the matter? It's your wedding night. It's supposed to be the start of your union with your husband," she teased gently, though her eyes softened with concern.

I swallowed hard but was not scared, but it's just that I had never gone that far with any guy as much as I could see them as tough and acted like I had done it; I never did.

I tried to hold her back and tried to find an excuse. "But I want to spend more time with you," I said quickly. "You'll be leaving tomorrow, and..."

She chuckled again. "You'll be fine, my dear. Trust yourself," she said before rising to her feet and leaving me there. 

I sighed, stood up, and walked to the balcony to get some air. The cool night breeze kissed my skin as I looked at the glowing moon.

The reality of it all hit me like a wave. I couldn't believe it—I was married. Married to Bhalla, the King of Mahishmati, a man I once thought of as nothing more than a character on a screen.

My fingers tightened around the balcony railing as I tried to calm my breathing. The thought of what lay ahead made my heart race even faster.

I closed my eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over me. Its gentle touch was a comfort against the storm of nerves swirling inside me. I exhaled slowly, willing myself to relax and find some calm in the chaos of my thoughts.

But then, I felt it—a soft hand clasping the exposed skin of my waist. My breath hitched as I was gently pulled back against a broad chest, the heat of his body seeping into mine. The scent, the presence, the familiarity—I knew exactly who it was.

Bhalla.

His breath fanned my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. My heart raced as his lips brushed against my temple, trailing downward to bite the curve of my ear softly. A gasp escaped my lips, my body betraying my attempt to remain composed.

His hand slid upward, lightly clasping my neck. His touch was firm but not harsh, his fingers tracing a path from the column of my throat to the edge of my jaw. He tilted my face slightly, his thumb brushing over my lips. I felt the pressure as he parted them gently, his intent clear in how his touch lingered.

I couldn't breathe or think—my body frozen between uncertainty and the undeniable pull of his presence.

"Finally, after all these years, you had no idea how much I waited for this day," he murmured, his voice thick with longing. His lips travelled down my neck, pressing fervent kisses against my skin. Each touch left a trail of fire, and I couldn't help but shudder under his intensity.

I scrunched my eyes shut, his words echoing in my mind. He waited for me? For years?

The thought barely had time to form before his lips found mine, silencing any questions I might have had. His kiss was fervent and consuming, and I felt the weight of his emotions pour into me. My fingers instinctively tangled into his thick hair, holding onto him like he might disappear if I let go.

The world around us seemed to fade, leaving only the sound of our breaths and the heat of his touch.

I wasn't sure how we moved from the balcony to the bed, but every thought dissolved under the haze of his touch. My body, my senses—everything could only remember the way his lips travelled over me, from my own to my neck, then lower, leaving a trail of fire and possession.

The chamber filled with the melody of my moans and whimpers, a symphony that seemed to match the rhythm of his hands and mouth. His lips lingered, branding me with marks of his claim as though he wanted the world to know I belonged to him.

His hands skillfully worked at removing my saree, the fabric slipping away and leaving me half-exposed. A shiver ran through me as the cool night air contrasted with the heat in his eyes, which never left mine. His gaze showed a raw intensity, making me bite my lip in nervousness and anticipation.

God, I shouldn't be doing this, my mind screamed. But then a louder thought overpowered it, reminding me—he is my husband.

Slowly, his fingers worked to untie the knots of my blouse behind my back, the fabric loosening and slipping away, leaving me bare. Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest, shielding myself from his gaze.

But, ever so gentle in that moment, Bhalla smiled—a smile that softened the edges of his otherwise commanding demeanour. He leaned in and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a firm yet tender embrace. His lips brushed against my ear as he whispered sweet nothings, each word a balm to my racing heart.

"It's me," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "You don't have to be shy or scared. I am yours as much as you are mine."

With those words, his hands found mine, gently guiding them away from their defensive position. My heart thundered as our chests met, the warmth of his skin melding with mine. At that moment, I felt a strange mix of vulnerability and comfort, as though his presence alone could shield me from the world.

His lips moved almost reverently as though he were following an invisible map etched across my skin. Each kiss sent waves of sensation through me, his touch igniting parts of me I didn't know could feel so alive.

When his lips reached my chest, I gasped, the stars behind my closed eyes bursting into constellations. His mouth left a trail of warmth, his every movement deliberate and worshipful. My fingers found their way into his thick curls, clutching them like my anchor to reality. I tugged gently, eliciting a low hum from him that sent shivers through me.

As his lips travelled lower, tracing their way to my navel, I could do nothing but whimper, my breaths shallow and uneven. My heart pounded wildly as I dared to lower my gaze, only to meet his piercing eyes—intense, full of unspoken promises and burning desire. The way he looked at me, even in this most vulnerable moment, made me feel seen in a way that was almost too much to bear. Yet, I couldn't look away.

I was utterly his, and he made sure I knew it.

His hands traced my knees and slowly higher as they caressed my thighs, making me force my thighs together; just as his hands claimed higher and my moan raised, a loud calling of Bhalla's name made both of us gasp.

Bhalla's hands froze mid-motion, and I felt the air in the room shift. For a moment, neither of us moved, our chests heaving as we tried to process the interruption.

His brows furrowed, irritation flashing across his face, but his expression softened as he turned back to me. Though his frustration was evident, I could see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

"Well, just my luck," I muttered under my breath, unable to hide the mix of disappointment and embarrassment that tinged my voice.

Bhalla sighed deeply, brushing a hand through his thick curls before leaning forward to kiss my forehead. "Stay here," he murmured.

Alone in the chamber, I clutched the sheets tightly around me, my mind racing and my body still humming with the remnants of his touch.

***

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