Kings clash. Queens curse.

One falls. Another laughs.

****

It was the day of the deal.

At one end of the long wooden table sat Rajan Hamal, flanked by his favourite Aishan and his Senapati, Madrik. On the opposite end sat Rudra, with Aryamna on his right and Indumala to his left. The Senapati of Aryavarta had brought his wife too, for she was adamant on being a part of the court after the ordeal of last night. Thus Ishvara, although present in the court, was guarded by several soldiers. She stayed in the centre, like the pistil of a lotus, with the guards constituting the petals.

"So, formalities aside," Rudra began, rubbing the hilt of his sword, "I have come here after hearing about the inhuman troubles faced by the inhabitants of Revat, a once luxurious land now poverty-stricken."

Hamal chuckled. "I find my kingdom golden and glorious."

"The signs of hunger and assault I witnessed while coming here say otherwise."

"Every kingdom has bad apples. They suffer, irrespective of where they are."

"I think then, unfortunately, all the bad apples have landed in your Revat. Care to tell me why?"

"I am not answerable to you, Rajan Rudra."

"Your ministers may be fooled by your hollow promises and declarations of superiority, but the world outside Revat is a completely different arena, where the people are aware of who is the real Rajan of Aryavarta, the strongest man of the world." Rudra puffed up his chest, raising his chiselled chin and narrowing his eyes. "That's me, not you, Rajan Hamal. And you better stay aware of it in your heart, even if you spurt nonsense to your public."

Hamal gestured Aishan to pour him a chalice of wine. Its smell was pungent and edgy, much like his stare that pierced Rudra. He rolled his eyes after taking a languid sip. "I think we already know where this is going, but for goodness sake, tell me your conditions."

Rudra clicked his fingers and a guard came up, opening a scroll and reading the conditions in a booming voice. "Number one– Revat shall lose its autonomy and come under the sovereign of Aryavarta, Rajan Rudra Arumugan. Number two– the current ruler of Revat, named Hamal the Second, would no longer be able to apply taxes. All will be levied on the dwellers of Revat by the Rajan of Aryavarta, and he will decide what part of the grand treasury to provide to Revat for its healthy governance. Number three– Hamal the Second will have to give up his title of a Rajan and accept the position of a Lord, subservient to both the Rajan of Aryavarta and his Senapati Aryamna."

Hamal poked the sides of his mouth, lazily getting up and sauntering towards the guard. He snatched the scroll, running his eyes over the contents, all the while the signature tilt of his head was intact. He closed the scroll, crumbling it in his hands.

Rudra smirked. "So, Lord Hamal, do you accept my conditions?"

"In return for something, yes."

Silence fell in the hall. No one expected him to agree, even though with conditions of his own. Hamal's eyes scintillated in the light reflected off the silvery chandelier. In the drapes of darkness that covered the table, a choking quietude clawed at the windpipes of the magical four of Aryavarta.

The gaze of Revat's monarch lingered on Indumala. He walked up to her, standing beside her chair. Indumala craned her neck to see him just behind her. Her hand, wounded from the affairs of the previous night, were unable to hold onto the table too fiercely. Rudra was ready to pounce any moment.

Unceremoniously, Hamal placed his hand on Indumala's shoulders, digging his sharp nails into her fragile skin. "For your three conditions, I require three people from your life– one, the odd veiled beauty which you cherish, whom no one knows about; two, the wife of the Senapati over there, for she is too ethereal to pass, and third," he leaned in, whispering against Indumala's neck, "your bodyguard, as mine. I would love to be protected by such a perfectly petite lady."

"You bastard." Rudra clutched Hamal's throat, pulling him away from Indumala. Madrik and Aishan unsheathed their swords, running to the side of their master in a matter of mere seconds. Hamal kept a smile on his face. Rudra pressed on the pumping skin near his collarbone and unleashed his fangs. "You never changed."

Aryamna yanked Rudra away from Hamal. "Don't commit anything you will regret later," he said in a hushed voice. "We know better than to spill blood now."

"Bastard?" Hamal moved his head side to side, relaxing his tense muscles. "You are a bastard. You don't even know who your parents are. Your so-called mother was a whore and your father was impotent."

"Watch your words," Aryamna sneered. "Rajan Madhavan was a holy soul, and as of Ranavato, you better don't talk about her. It doesn't suit you."

"You should keep your lips sealed tight, Aryamna. It won't take me long to plunder your wife."

Aryamna pointed his spear at Hamal's chest. "And it won't take me long," his spear glided down to Hamal's lower belly, "to cut whatever is down there."

"Your wife wouldn't be pleased, Aryamna. Because once you die, she will need someone to cater to her needs on bed."

"I don't look forward to sharing myself with a man who is already used, Rajan Hamal," Ishvara bitterly trumpeted from within her shelter, venom dripping down her crimson lips. "You aren't ripe enough. I heard you have a queen, and I see your lover Aishan too. I am not interested in men who are already taken. They are as good as used goatskin. One can't try them on again for a second round of sex." She huffed. "And you must have been enjoyed from both the front and back, so there remains nothing fresh about you."

A collective gasp rippled across the crowd. Rudra's jaw hung open, his ears burning red from whatever he heard. Aryamna felt the same, and although these two men were deadly shocked by the insensitive, crass reply of Ishvara, they admired her feline courage. Indumala scooted closer to Rudra, amused by the new avatar of her mother.

"You compare me to goatskin?" Hamal repeated, half-a-grin playing on his lips. He balled his hands into fists, taut muscles hardening under the fur coat. "Didn't your husband teach you how to speak to a man?"

"I don't take lessons from him."

"I think I will impart you my knowledge one day, Ishvara." Hamal seethed with rage, his eyes glowing red like a forest fire. "You pride yourself over your purity, don't you? I will destroy it. In front of your wriggling husband."

"No amount of men can malign a woman's dignity," Ishvara's voice rose to a feverish pitch. "You throw the challenge to my husband. I am sure he will defeat you."

"Sweetheart," Hamal jutted his chin and hissed, "I don't respect women like these half-baked saints. I know your real worth. I know where you belong."

"We belong to godhood." Indumala glared at the man. An ancient rage, cast by a mysterious spell of this grieving land of Revat, brimmed in her watery eyes. The tears were the blood of her soul, molten memories crawling on the surface of a new birth.

Hamal jerked back. "Ah, Indumala..." He scoffed. "You are a child of the plague. Unfortunate. Cursed too, much like your lover Rudra."

"We may be cursed–" Fearlessly Indumala stood at a hair-breadth away from him, looking into his monstrous eyes. "But not powerless. Nightmares have woven us, destiny has shunned us, but we don't regard ourselves as the waste of the universe. We were meant to be here, just like you. Perhaps, because of you." She spat on his face. "To kill you."

"Indumala!" Hamal's fangs were moments away from sinking into her skin when Rudra's hand came in between, allowing the beastly teeth to grind his bones. Pain traversed his spine, numbing his arm till the elbow. His fair skin turned paler than a waning moon. Indumala tried in vain to separate the two.

It was time for Aryamna to showcase a glimpse of his powers.

With eyes as red as garnet and fangs of a vampire, he tore the flesh from the neck of Hamal in one go. The skin and chunk of meat pressed between his jaws drizzled down ugly blood. Indumala screamed in horror. Hamal left his grip on Rudra and staggered back, running his hand over the gaping wound that Aryamna just gave him. "So you revealed your true form," Hamal said.

"You haven't seen my true form yet, Hamal. You will, one day."

"Call me Rajan Hamal." A guttural noise escaped his throat.

"Then I am the Rajan of your kind, Hamal," Aryamna replied with a grin that spread till his ears, bloodied teeth shining in the darkness.

"Wha-what is he?" Indumala asked Rudra. "Isn't my Baba a human?"

"War," Hamal declared. "We will meet in the battlefield, Aryamna and Rudra. I will finish you two with my own hands." He roared, thumping his foot on the tiles. "But first, I will kill your daughter, Aryamna. Mark my words."

"I won't let you kill her a second time," Rudra whispered. Tears trickled down his eyes. He embraced Indumala close to his chest, the latter running her hands over his bleeding wound. "I will protect her. I am immortal, Hamal, and so is my love."

Indumala's heart pounded in her chest. She was filled with adherence and gratitude, more so with questions, but she welcomed what little answer Rudra's words had to offer her.

In that flickering moment, much of the haze cleared, and Indumala saw a twinkling light.

"Get out of my palace. Now," Hamal ordered. "I am a Rajan, and I will treat you like one. Return home and meet me in war, so that I can dance on your corpses and claim your wives as my own."

"We will see who takes who." Rudra motioned his guards to bring Ishvara. "Let's go, Aryamna and Ishvara. Indumala, stay close to me."

Ishvara intertwined her fingers with Aryamna, looking into his eyes with equal wrath and worry, but her touch only showered warmth. Indumala coloured her bandaged palm with the drops of blood sliding down Rudra's hand, their bodies clinging together.

The Four marched out of the palace and got on their horses and palanquin, ready to go to the docks and return to Ishgar.

History was to be written.