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gay people can never say shit like "wow it's nice to see you, how are you?" after seeing their childhood best friend for the first time in 25 years. they always have to say shit like "do you remember me🥺" and "your voice changed, but the way you call me hasn't"
The moment I played this movie my yaoi senses were tingling.
Their dynamic is such that Deva has an unwavering devotion towards Varadha. Inseparable since childhood, Deva reads his Varadha without needing words. No one hurts Varadha and walks away unscathed. Not when Deva is there. In an extreme sense he's ready to kill and die for him.
Varadha knows exactly how to tame that storm. But that's not what defines their dynamic, at least not to me. Varadha, plausiblly the next dhora of Khansar, shows his vulnerable side when he's with his Deva. He gets drunk and rests on Deva's lap and Deva instinctively caresses him. That's my favorite scene of them by the way. Another scene that I love is when Varadha asks the cook to add more chilli because he knows that’s what Deva likes. It may sound silly but I believe love is in the little things.
I wanted to wait till all parts of salaar comes out. But I can't no more 😭
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Summary - An orphaned palace healer never imagined that treating Amarendra Baahubali's wounds would change her life forever. As their bond blossoms into love, palace conspiracies threaten to tear them apart.
[ Disclaimer - This is a fanfiction based on the Indian movie franchise - Bāhubali . All characters mentioned in this fic belong to the makers of the movie except oc.]
Words - 4.7k
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The war had just ended.
The battlefield had fallen silent.
Kalakeya was dead.
Gone were the deafening war cries, clashes of metal. In their place lingered an eerie stillness, broken only by the crackling of dying fire, the distant caw of circling crows and the soft groans of the wounded who had survived the carnage.
The earth bore scars of the war. Broken chariots lay overturned, shattered weapons scattered across the blood soaked ground. Smoke drifted lazily into the sky, carrying with it, the scent of ash, iron and sacrifice.
Mahishmati had won.
“My son!” Bijjaladeva exclaimed, “My son is the one who destroyed Kalakeya! He won the war!” he said, cackling.
“Bhallaladeva is the king!” He announced.
“Jai Bhallaladev! Jai Bhallaladeva!” some of the soldiers exclaimed. Bhalladeva’s chest swelled with satisfaction. Ego and pride clearly visible in his eyes.
“Bhallaladeva’s heroic win is a new chapter in our country’s history,” Sivagami said “Let his glory spread throughout the kingdom, erect stone tablets and monuments of glory. I am appointing Bhallaladeva as the Commander-in-chief of Mahishmati.”
Bhalladeva’s smirk faltered. Everyone’s head snapped towards the Queen mother.
“I declare Baahubali as the King of Mahishmati.”
A wave of happiness and relief spread through the army and people present there.
“Hey Sivagami! What is this decision?” Bijjaladeva said.
“Kalakeya was killed by my son.” he continued, “Our son, you witnessed it with your own eyes. He should be the king right? He should be!”
“A king should not only kill his enemies but also protect his people. In the battle Bhalla kept his entire focus on exterminating the enemy… Baahubali was fighting his battle whilst protecting the people. That is the difference between a soldier and a king.” she continued, “If you kill a hundred people, you are called a hero. If you even save one life, you are called a god.” she said looking at Amarendra Baahubali.
Bijjaladeva let out a disgruntled sound, “Just because he saved a few worthless —”
“Baahubali will be crowned the King of Mahishmati on an auspicious day. This is my word, my word is the law.” the Queen mother announced.
Everyone had once again gone quiet.
“Baahubali… Baahubali!” one of the soldiers started and everyone started cheering.
“Baahubali! Baahubali! Baahubali!” the crowd cheered on.
“Amarendra Baahubali!”
The medical camps were situated inside the kingdom, but not too far away from the battlefield.
The war had long concluded and the battlefield was silent. But the situation was completely opposite near the camps. It was bustling with injured soldiers getting their wounds treated and healers who have been restless since morning.
Not one was allowed a moment of rest.
They could hear the distant uproar of soldiers, which only meant – the king was chosen.
Manorama was almost done stitching a very ugly gash on one of the soldier’s arms.
“Ok… it’s done. You’re good to go, don’t put any pressure on it and if you want to change the bandage, just use turmeric-neem paste on the wound before wrapping a new bandage.” she said.
The soldier nodded and whispered a quiet thank you.
Manorama was washing her hands when she heard a commotion outside the tents.
She went outside.
Everyone outside were talking among themselves. She asked one of the other healers what was happening.
“Apparently Rajkumar Bhallaladeva killed Kalakeya,” she said, “But the queen mother chose Rajkumar Baahubali as the king.”
“What? I thought the one who killed Kalakeya would be chosen.” Manorama said.
“Yes, but Bhallaladeva didn’t care about our people who were taken hostage by Kalakeya’s army and Baahubali was careful enough to not be like his brother.”
“Well, I hope she made the right decision…” Manorama said.
“Manorama!” the chief healer called her.
Manorama turned towards her, “Acharya?”
“We have to go to the palace now and I need you there. The princes are returning back.”
“Of course.” she said, gathering her stuff before following her teacher to the chariot which would take them to the palace.
They reached the palace within a few minutes and rushed to the medical wing. Servants hurried through the corridors, already preparing for the wounded.
“Tell the servants to heat water and gather the herbs, bandages and medicinal oils. We may have little time once they arrive” she ordered.
Manorama quickly told the servants to prepare everything and gathered all the items required for a medical emergency. The chief healer started preparing the herbal paste.
The palace doors finally opened when the Rajkumars returned.
The servants and guards bowed in unison.
Amarendra turned towards the medical wing but paused when he noticed his brother walking in the opposite direction.
“Bhalla?” he called, “the healers are this way.”
Bhallaladeva didn't stop.
“I have no need for them.” He replied curtly, continuing down the corridor.
Baahubali noticed the dried blood staining his armor.
“You're injured.”
“They're nothing.”
Ever since Rajamata announced her decision on the battlefield, Bhallaladeva had hardly spoken to him. Amarendra knew his brother believed the throne had been taken from him. He wished things had been different.
“Very well,” Amarendra said softly “Get some rest.”
Bhallaladeva offered no reply.
Watching him disappear, Amarendra let out a quiet sigh before making his way towards the medical wing alone.
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the corridor, a moment later, Amarendra Baahubali stepped into the medical wing.
The servants immediately bowed.
The chief healer approached him at once and offered a respectful bow before her eye instinctively scanned him for any injuries.
“Rajkumar, are you gravely injured?”
“No.” he shook his head.
“Were you struck on the head?”
“No.”
“Any dizziness?”
“No.”
She nodded and gestured him towards a wooden cot.
“Please, sit.”
He obeyed without any protest.
And only then did Manorama get a proper look at him.
His armour was stained with dirt and blood. Dust clung to his garments and though he was exhausted, there was something unusually calm about his expression.
The chief healer carefully undid the leather straps of his armour, lifting the heavy armour away.
Manorama couldn't help but draw in a quiet breath.
Several shallow gashes stretched across his forearms and shoulder while a deeper wound marked the right side of his chest, likely by an arrow that had pierced his armour, blood had already begun drying around it.
“You were fortunate,” the chief healer said “A little further and it would've pierced deeper.”
Before she could begin tending to the wound, hurried footsteps thundered into the room.
“Vaidhya!”
Everyone turned.
A young palace servant stood there, slightly out of breath.
“There is a soldier who needs you, he's heavily injured on the head – he's unconscious.”
The chief frowned.
“Did the bleeding stop?”
“Barely.”
Without hesitation, Amarendra spoke first.
“Please attend to him first.”
She looked uncertain.
“But Rajkumar–”
“Please, he needs you more than me.”
For a brief moment she studied him, before giving a nod.
“As you wish.”
She turned towards Manorama.
“You've assisted me enough times.”
Manorama straightened.
“Yes Acharya.”
The chief healer hurried away with the servant.
Silence settled over the chamber.
For the first time, Amarendra's attention shifted to the young woman now standing in front of him. She couldn't have been much older than himself.
Her hands were already reaching the bowl of warm water.
She bowed respectfully.
“Rajkumar, If you don't mind, can I?” She asked, gesturing to his wounds.
He extended his injured arm without a word.
She dipped a clean cloth into the bowl and began washing away the dried blood.
Her movements were careful, gentle.
Not once did her hands tremble.
After a few moments Amarendra broke the silence.
“i don't believe we've met.”
“No, Rajkumar.”
“What is your name?”.
“Manorama.”
He repeated it quietly, almost thoughtfully. “Manorama…”
She glanced up for a second before returning to her work.
“How long have you been studying under the chief healer?”
“Almost three years.”
“Before that?”
She paused.
“I… learned from the village healers whenever they allowed me to watch.” She said while applying the anti bacterial paste to his wounds.
“You must be very skilled.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“I still have much more to learn.”
He chuckled.
“So… you are to become the king.”
“So Rajamata tells me.” there wasn't an ounce of pride in his voice, only quiet acceptance.
Manorama tied the final knot of the bandage before stepping back.
“They should heal well if you rest for a few days.”
“I'll try.”
Manorama smiled, knowing a warrior like him probably wouldn't.
“If you find any discomfort–”
“I'll tell you… or the vaidya.”
“... congratulations, Yuvraj.”
He looked at her curiously.
“On becoming the king of Mahishmati.”
For a moment he said nothing, then a warm, humble smile spread across his face.
“Thank you. I only hope I prove worthy of the faith everyone has placed in me.”
Those simple words lingered in Manorama’s mind long after he had left the chambers.
Nearly a fortnight had passed since the victory over the Kalakeyas.
Life within Mahishmati slowly began returning to its usual rhythm.
The medical wing, once overflowing with wounded soldiers, had grown quieter. Most of the injured had received or been discharged, and only a handful required daily treatment.
Manorama was grinding fresh herbs with a stone pestle.
The chief healer was visiting her family in the city and had left the medical wing under her care for the day.
She was done preparing the paste and was putting away the jars of herbs when she heard hurried footsteps echo through the corridor.
A palace guard entered, he first looked around for the chief healer but upon not finding her in sight, he looked at Manorama, “Yuvraj has been injured during training.”
Manorama sighed.
A few moments later, Amarendra entered with Kattappa supporting him.
“Yuvraj.” she bowed.
“Manorama…”
She looked up, surprised. “You remember my name?”
“You stitched an arrow wound into my chest, I hope I would remember the healer responsible.”
She smiled softly and gestured for him to sit on the cot.
“What happened?” she asked
“It is nothing serious,” Amarendra said with an apologetic smile. “Just a slight misstep.”
Kattappa disagreed, “He trained for far longer than advised.”
“Mama…”
“He refused to stop despite the swelling.”
She knelt before him and examined his ankle, the swelling had already begun to spread.
“It’s not broken…”
She slightly pressed on the joints around, “Does it hurt?”
“...no” he said, trying not to wince.
She sighed, “This might sting a little…”
She applied the cool herbal paste on the swelling and wrapped a fresh bandage around his ankle.
“You’ll have to stay off it for at least three days.” she said.
“Three?”
“Do you want me to make it seven?”
Amarendra sighed dramatically.
“I accept three.”
She nodded, satisfied.
As she reached for the bowl of water, Amarendra spoke again.
“How have you been?”
The question caught her off guard.
“...I’m fine, Yuvraj.”
“No troublesome patients?”
She smiled.
“A few.”
Kattappa’s eyes flickered between the two but remained silent.
Finally Manorama stepped back, "You're done. I’ll send you a concoction to drink before you sleep.”
Amarendra rose carefully.
“Thank you, Manorama.”
“It’s my duty, Yuvraj.”
“Even so…” he inclined his head politely, “Thank you.”
“It was an honour, Yuvraj.”
As Amarendra and Kattappa walked back through the corridors, Kattappa remained unusually quiet.
Amarendra glanced sideways.
“You have something to say,” he said.
“I do, actually.”
“Then say it.”
Kattappa’s expression remained composed.
“Is the healer the one that has occupied the prince’s mind lately?”
Amarendra nearly stumbled.
“What?”
“I have noticed his Highness has become…rather absent-minded these past few days.”
“I’m not absent-minded.” Baahubali protested.
“No?” Kattappa raised an eyebrow, “Then it must be merely a coincidence that the prince remembers an apprentice’s name only after meeting her once.”
Amarendra remained silent, the faint smile that refused to leave his face was answer enough.
The day’s events had left the entire palace unsettled.
That morning Rajamata Sivagami had walked barefoot in the streets of Mahishmati as a part of the rakshas dahan ritual. The procession had almost come to an abrupt halt when a furious elephant broke free from its shackles and charged towards her. Before anything horrible could happen, Amarendra had stepped between the beast and his mother, bringing it under control.
Though the kingdom celebrated the prince’s courage, the strain of the day’s events had finally caught up to Sivagami. The long barefoot procession had left her exhausted, by nightfall fever had settled in.
The royal chambers were quiet.
The chief healer stood beside Rajamata, checking her pulse once again.
Manorama carefully wrung out a cloth from the bowl of cool water, placing the cloth across Sivagami’s forehead, her movements were quiet and practised, careful not to wake the sleeping queen.
“Her fever has eased slightly,” the chief-healer said, “But not broken.”
Manorama nodded.
“I’ll prepare another fresh cloth.” she said.
The older woman nodded at her apprentice with quiet approval.
A few moments later, a guard announced the arrival of Amarendra Baahubali.
Amarendra entered the chambers quietly.
“How is she?” he asked the chief healer.
“The fever has eased, but it is yet to break,” the chief healer said, “She’s exhausted more than anything else. The long procession and the morning ordeal have taken a toll.”
A flicker of concern crossed his face as he sat beside her. He rested his palm against her forehead to check.
“Thank you… both of you.”
“It is our duty, Yuvraj.”
Amarendra looked towards Manorama.
She was already preparing another bowl of cool water, quietly replacing the cloth on the forehead before adjusting the blanket.
Amarendra left the chamber when one of the guards requested his presence in the court, promising to return again.
“The medicine is ready,” the chief healer said.
Manorama took the copper glass with the freshly brewed decoction, gently woke up the queen and helped the still drowsy Sivagami in taking the medicine. After it was done the queen laid back on the pillows.
“I’ll prepare another decoction in the medical wing, remain here. If the fever rises again, send for me immediately.” the chief told Manorama.
The palace had long gone quiet.
It was well past midnight.
Having finished attending to the affairs of the kingdom for the day, Amarendra found himself making his way to his mother’s chambers once again.
He quietly pushed the doors open, his eyes immediately falling on his mother.
The room was dimly lit.
He was informed, a few hours ago, that her fever had gone down.
He looked for the chief healer, but she was nowhere in sight. Instead a familiar figure rested against the side of the bed.
Manorama.
She sat on the floor beside the bed, one hand rested against the edge and the other in her lap, loosely clutching a cloth. Her head leaned gently against the bed as she slept, exhaustion had taken over her. A bowl of water sat beside her, the cloth in it, long forgotten.
Amarendra stood there for a moment.
She had stayed, long after her duty should have ended.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Careful not to wake his mother, he walked over and crouched beside Manorama.
“Manorama” he called softly.
She didn’t stir.
“Manorama…” he called again.
He hesitated before gently tapping her shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open. She sat up straight.
“Yu–Yuvraj?” she lowered her gaze, “I…I apologize, I must've–”
“You fell asleep.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Rajamata…”
“She’s resting, peacefully.”
A visible wave of relief washed over her face.
“I didn’t realize I was this tired.”
His gaze fell on the bowl beside her, “You’ve been here since afternoon.”
She nodded, “Acharya wanted someone to stay here through the evening."
He straightened.
“I’ll remain with Rajamata for the rest of the night.”
She blinked.
“Yuvraj… you don’t have to–”
“I know,” he said, “You’ve cared for her for long enough.”
She hesitated.
“As you wish.”
As she turned to leave, Amarendra called after her.
“Manorama.”
She looked back.
“...Get some proper rest.” he told her.
“I will.”
She quietly left the royal chambers, leaving Amarendra with his mother.
He smiled to himself. For reasons he could not explain, he hoped their paths would cross again.
A few days passed since Sivagami’s fever.
In the medical wing Manorama was refilling the jars with fresh herbs.
The curtains rustled.
She looked up.
“Yuvraj?” her tone, surprised.
He smiled.
“What brings you here? Is everything alright?”
He looked down at his hand
“There may have been a… slight mishap during training.”
He held out his hand, there was a shallow cut on his forearm.
She stared at it for a moment.
“...this?”
He looked at it thoughtfully, “It bled.”
She couldn’t help but smile.
“It has already stopped.” She folded her arms and shook her head, going to fetch the bowl of antiseptic paste anyways.
“It’ll only take a moment.” she said while cleaning the cut.
“You always look so serious while treating.”
She looked up at him, “I wouldn’t be a good healer if I didn’t, would I?”
“I suppose not.”
She wrapped a strip of cotton cloth around his forearm.
“There.”
For a brief moment, they simply looked at each other before she stepped back.
“You’re free to go.” she said.
He nodded, “Thank you…”
A week later,
Manorama was sitting on the floor, a book about surgical methods lying in her lap. She heard footsteps she had begun to recognise.
She didn't look up immediately.
“What happened this time, Yuvraj?”
A chuckle answered her question.
She finally looked up.
He had his palm held out in front of her.
She frowned and examined his palm. Searching for injury, she didn't find anything so she looked closer. And there, a tiny cut crossed the side of his thumb.
She looked up at him with raised eyebrows.
“You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?” She asked.
“Uhm… I don't know what you're talking about.” He shrugged innocently.
She sighed, closing her book.
“This doesn't require a healer.”
“It looked worse, I swear.”
She shook her head, trying to hide her smile.
“You've become rather careless lately.”
“I’ve been told.”
She applied a very tiny amount of the herbal paste on the cut.
“by Kattappa?”
“He's convinced, I visit the medical wing more often than necessary.”
“...do you?”
His eyes soften, holding her gaze for a fraction longer.
“I did come for the cut…but it’s not the only reason.”
She looked back down at his arm before he could see the colour rising to her cheeks.
The neighbouring kingdom bustled with merchants and travellers from every direction.
Amarendra was sent there to look out for the trading deal between two kingdoms. The official matters had concluded by noon, leaving Amarendra and Kattappa with little time in their hands to explore the kingdom before leaving for their return journey.
They were passing through the marketplace of the city, they were dressed in simple clothes so as to not draw any attention.
As they walked, Amarendra slowed before a jeweller’s store.
Kattappa paused behind him.
Rows of silver anklets, necklaces and bracelets glimmered in the afternoon sun.
His eyes moved across the stall, then his gaze fell on a silver kada. It was decorated with a lotus motif in the centre with two peacocks on either side of the lotus.
He picked it up carefully.
“This one.” he told the shopkeeper to pack it.
The shopkeeper wrapped it in a cloth and handed it over.
Amarendra thanked him and carefully tucked it inside his sash.
The two continued walking through the market once again.
It was Kattappa who broke the silence.
“Baahu, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Baahubali replied.
“Do you intend to continue seeing the healer?”
“...yes.”
Kattappa’s gaze remained ahead.
“And then?”
Amarendra’s smile faded, he knew what Kattappa had meant.
“She is kind.”
“I know.”
“She sees a prince and talks to me as though I am another man.”
“If this blossoms into something else, people will talk.” Kattapa said, “They will question her, not you. They will question her place.”
Kattappa lowered his eyes, “They will question the kingdom itself.”
Amarendra stopped, his hand instinctively rested over the small parcel in his sash.
“I have no intention of letting that happen.” Baahubali said.
Kattappa sighed.
“Then you know the path will not be an easy one.”
The morning after his return, he found himself walking towards the medical wing once again.
Manorma was sorting through a new batch of dried herbs when she heard someone clear their throat, she turned around.
“Yuvraj.” She greeted him with a smile.
Amarendra returned the smile.
She glanced over at him, “No injuries today?”
“No.”
“Well, I am relieved to hear that. What brings you here?”
He moved closer until he was standing right in front of her.
“I have something for you…” he said.
“For me?”
He reached into the folds of his angavastram before he withdrew a small cloth bundle.
She accepted the bundle carefully.
“I happened to see it while I was away,”
She unwrapped the cloth, resting inside was a delicate kada, a blooming lotus engraved in the centre, flanked by two graceful peacocks.
“It’s…beautiful.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“It reminded me of you,” he said.
“You thought of me?”
“I…” Amarendra smiled sheepishly, “I thought of someone who spends her days helping others.”
A faint warmth spread across her cheeks.
“I’ve…I’ve never received a gift before.” she admitted.
His expression softened.
“Then I’m glad it’s your first.”
“Would you–” she started but stopped herself.
Amarendra tilted his head, “Would I?”
She lowered her eyes, “Would you help me?”
A gentle smile crossed his face.
“Ofcourse.”
She extended her wrist, with careful fingers Amarendra took the kada and slipped it onto her wrist, and fastened it into place.”
Silence between them felt strangely comforting.
When he finished, his fingers lingered only long enough to make sure it sat properly before he withdrew.
Their eyes met, and neither of them seemed willing to look away.
Then a servant’s voice echoed from the corridor, “Yuvraj, Rajamata is requesting your presence.”
He cleared his throat, “I should go.”
Manorama nodded.
“Thank you…”
As his footsteps faded, Manorama looked down at the bracelet once more, a smile she couldn’t suppress spread across her face.
For the rest of the day whenever the bracelet caught sunlight, she couldn’t help but think about the prince who had crossed kingdoms and still thought about her.
Nearly a week passed after he had given her the bracelet.
“Yuvraj.” She greeted him with a smile.
He returned the smile.
She noticed he looked a little uncertain today and was wearing what looked like…normal clothes? With a turban on his head.
“Do you have something to tell me?” she asked.
He hesitated for a moment.
“I’ve seen Mahishmati a thousand times,” he said, she looked at him, confused. “But I don’t think I've ever seen it the way its people do.”
She still doesn’t understand.
“I was wondering…maybe—would you accompany me?”
She blinked, “To where?”
“To the city.”
“...the city?” she repeated.
He nodded.
“As ordinary people.”
She laughed, “Yuvraj…”
“I thought this through.”
“So…you want to sneak out, with me?”
He nodded once again.
“I…I don’t know, what if someone sees us?”
“Don’t worry, I already found a way out of the palace,” he said.
“...You’re impossible.”
He just chuckled.
“I suppose…one evening won’t hurt.”
His face lit up.
He waited while she went to fetch her shawl.
He navigated her through the corridors to the backside of the palace to one of the lesser used entrances, together they managed to slip out of the palace without the guards noticing.
“So… what do you think?” she asked him, as they sat on the stone floor inside the shivalayam, Manorama was tucking a hibiscus flower into her braid, while Amarendra sat opposite to her, trying to cut the flesh of a half broken coconut. They wandered around the marketplace for a while before they decided to visit the temple.
He looked up, “It’s nice, actually…it’s peaceful, like I can breathe. When I stay in the palace, I feel like there’s an unusual weight on my chest.” he said, handing her a piece of coconut, “Manorama, I am not ready to be the king.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
“Yuvraj… I don’t know how it feels to carry that kind of weight but… I think you’ll do great, people love you, they admire you. And it's completely fine for you to think you are not ready, but something tells me you were born to do this.” she reassures him.
“Thank you…” he said, his gaze locked onto hers.
The eye contact lasted for a moment before he sighed and looked away.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” he said
“Sure.”
“You don’t really leave the palace much, do you? I mean I've known you for weeks now and I know people leave for a few days now and then, to visit their families or —you don’t have to answer it.” he shook his head.
Manorama looked down, silence settled between them for a brief moment before she spoke.
“I don’t really have anyone,” she said, “My parents passed away in a flash flood when I was younger. I have–had a brother, but one day he just left. Without even telling me.”
“I’m sorry…” he whispered, regretting asking the question.
“It’s alright, it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.” she said with a smile.
One evening turned into many others.
Whenever Baahubali was free from his duties, he would wait for Manorama outside the medical wing till she was done with her patients, then they would slip out of the back entrance, dressed in simple clothes. Slipping out of the palace was easy, but going beyond the compound walls without guards noticing was the tricky part, yet they managed to do it every single time.
The streets of Mahishmati became their place. They wandered through the bustling markets scented with roasted gram, jasmines and insence, stopping at stalls with colourful silks, pottery and wooden toys. Amarendra insisted she taste every sweet they came across. Sometimes sharing roasted corn seasoned with salt and chilli. In return she introduced him to small family run stalls, in the narrow lanes, where the owners treated every customer like an old friend and served steaming hot mirchi baajis wrapped in banana leaf.
On festival evenings, they disappeared into the crowd gathered beneath the flickering lamps. They watched travelling dancers perform, stood shoulder to shoulder while watching puppet shows. Sometimes Amarendra would be so engrossed, he would forget he's in disguise and chested along with the crowd, Manorama saw him not as the future King but just a young man finding joy in ordinary moments.
Some evenings were filled with conversations, and some with comfortable silence. Amarendra opened about his fears and responsibilities, Manorama shared her childhood memories, when still had people to care for her.
As they were returning back from their midnight stroll, comfortable silence settled between them. They were walking side by side, their fingers occasionally brushing.
The palace corridors were empty except for a few guards patrolling around.
They stopped walking when they reached the entrance of the quarters for the palace staff. They stood under the archway.
Amarendra faced Manorama, studying her under the silver glow of the moonlight. The breeze outside picked up, a few strands of her hair fell over her face.
Amarendra reached, tucking them behind her ear.
She blushed, a light pink dusting her cheeks.
Amarendra stepped closer.
“Mano…” he whispered, “please tell me if I am misunderstanding your heart.”
“You're not…” she said.
Amarendra rested his palm against her cheek, she closed her eyes and leaned against the warmth, letting out a quiet sigh.
Then he leaned in and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her lips.
It lasted only for a brief moment before he moved back. Manorama opened her eyes, her heart started racing, she could not believe that he had kissed her. She looked into his eyes, a small smile made way onto her lips.
“I–I think I should go…” she said.
“Yeah.”
She nodded, “Goodnight Baahu…”
“Goodnight.” He said, watching her as she turned around and walked away, leaving him smiling to himself.
