There's a story behind every story, little one.

****

The Rajan was back to slaying and his usual hotheaded temper after a rest of two weeks.

The palace had been lifeless without his force. Now when his commanding voice and often obnoxious words spread themselves across the swathe of the palace, things were looking normal. It was probably how the servants and the ministers liked to work– under the wrathful gaze of the beastly Rajan.

After the unsuccessfull attempt by Hamal the Second to eliminate his greatest enemy Indrasya Rudra Arumugam, a meeting was organised by the Rajan. In here participated Aryamna and Indumala, as well as Dilrobar, for she was a must in all these gatherings, and a select few of the most trusted.

Towering above all was the looming figure of the Rajan. Bitter were his pursed lips, arrogance shining in the way his sharp irises examined each and every man, and woman, in the room. They stood around a circular table like a wake of vultures, peering into the map that held the centre of discussion.

With a slight nod of his head, Rudra hinted Aryamna to begin. The Senapati took out a needle and pinned it on Revat. "Our target. One by one, each shall say what they want to do with Revat, particularly her Rajan."

"Imprison and torture in the style of werewolves."

"Drench Revat in his blood."

"Eradicate his rule from history."

"Complete elimination."

"Death," came the simple declaration of Dilrobar. She was standing on the other side of the table, just opposite to Rudra. Even though her face was veiled and her reputation not very bright, the men present knew she was a prized weapon. She wasn't the apsara who would lure men to a never-ending spiral of ruination, but she was the legacy of the Mataraj– the woman behind the Rajan. She was his advisor akin to his mother. This elevated her in the eyes of the men, who didn't consider her trivial in matters of politics. She had seen Revat up close, being a former dweller of the kingdom, and knew it like the back of her hand.

"We all agree, thus," Aryamna said. "But, declaring war directly wouldn't be a wise idea. We need to give a prior warning."

"Warnings don't work anymore, Senapati."

"We need to charge without any intimidation. Surprise them with an attack."

"I understand that rage simmers in the hearts of all," Dilrobar interjected, "but the Senapati is right. Worthy men, I think we should consider the reputation of the Rajan as the sole sovereign and such behaviour would point out his cowardice. He isn't afraid to battle on fair terms. Only the one's who are weak suggest by hook or crook."

"What use is fairness when it's clearly not employed by both parties?" a man protested. "Werewolves best thrive in the dark."

"We are forgetting that our enemy isn't a weakling," Aryamna said. "I understand it is the warrior's dharma to believe in the superiority of the self, but it's incomplete if we undermine the strength of the foe. Hamal isn't any enemy. He is the enemy. We must remember that."

"A letter."

When Rudra spoke, everyone fell silent. "A letter, it is. I will write a letter to Hamal, stating that I am going to visit him, to settle some matters as peacefully as possible."

"Is peace really an option, Rajan?" A minister expressed his doubt.

"Words are hollow etiquettes when conversing with that man. The letter shall establish that I am alive, and that I am coming to Revat with a purpose."

"And what is that purpose, Rajan?" Aryamna asked.

"Revat has long denied to be under my umbrella." Rudra heaved a sigh, and his eyes darkened. "I am going to show him what it's like to call oneself an immortal, and to really face the great immortal walking on earth. I am going to show him what it is to be truly rich and omniscient, contrasting just a futile struggle to portray oneself as a lasting authority. I am not a thing to be pitied, some immortal who lusts after the tragic beauty of death. I am an immortal by fate, and only I can have this immense power."

Not once did he falter while contradicting his own past confessions of regretting being the supreme. In this moment, he relished the taste of fear that the people had for him. If he was cursed by some whore pretending to be his mother for a whole lifetime, he could look at the good part of it. The earth trembled under his feet and his march was equal to the army of the God of War. Oh, he very well could have been the God of War incarnate.

"The conditions– Revat's people are suffering under the rule of Hamal the Second, and as the independent, most powerful monarch of Aryavarta and the undisputed leader of the world, I am bound to take a step, and that is by bringing Revat completely under me. Secondly, the taxes will be levied on the people of Revat by my men and not by Hamal's. What part of the tax I find unnecessary, I will give to him, and that shall be his requirement, not less or more. Thirdly, Hamal will have to reduce his title to Lord Hamal, and he won't be able to call himself Rajan anymore."

"Surely he won't ever agree to these. So we can happily declare war after he denies," Dilrobar said. "He loves to see himself as some god, and I won't deny he is otherworldly, but to be a god needs some grace. When you will say you want to strip his title of a Rajan, I can bet he is going to show his fury."

"He has the freedom to do it. Likewise, it is my responsibility to crush his ego."

"So it's settled," Aryamna said. "A letter. Dilrobar will pen it down and give to me. I will make arrangements for it to be delivered."

"Dismissed." Rajan Rudra walked out of the hall, Indumala following him. Aryamna left with Dilrobar, the latter talking about how to write the most appropriate letter, although the Senapati's attention was on Indumala all the time she was in his vision. When she left the corridor with the Rajan, he focused on Dilrobar's words.

Indumala today had no say in what was happening. She had no idea too. The Rajan was in a serious mood. A smile came to her face when she realised he was walking towards her room. Maybe they were going to spend some time together.

Lately, she was shocked by the changes her heart was going through. The Rajan, being a werewolf, was utterly disgusting. Especially his beastly form– that was a sore to the eyes. Yet, she found herself accepting him, even feeling his thoughts. As a devotee of Shiva, maybe she had inculcated the habit of embracing the ones shunned by society and termed as monstrous. Those one-eyed and horned beings who were in Shiva's gana were not very different to Rudra. The Rajan, named after Shiva himself, and so similar to the God's world, was unwilling to be part of the faith. But as Shiva would have still smiled upon the cursed face of Rudra, Indumala beamed at him too.

She herself was called cursed due to her birthmark. In that sense, she was no different from Rudra. Maybe he had sinned in this life, and she sinned in one earlier. Maybe that's why she was killed, perhaps brutally.

Indumala flinched. She didn't want to think about it.

When in her room, Rudra casually dropped his weight on a chair and drank a chalice of water. Indumala stood near the window, leaning against the wall. "Am I going to Revat too?"

"Yes. You will accompany me."

"Is it a really bad place?"

Rudra hesitated to answer. His brows furrowed and he clenched his jaw. "It is."

"It has always been something hush-hush in the guild. Or at least they don't let us youth know about the kingdom. I guess that tells me how cruel it is."

"It is."

"Is it under some tyranny?"

"It is."

"Dilrobar said this Rajan sees himself as some god. Is he so important?"

"He likes to think himself as one, but I care less. We were destined to be enemies by our connected fates."

"How?"

"I am a werewolf, and he is a vampire. The story goes long back, but let's keep it aside for another day."

Indumala nodded understandingly. "That day, when you told me everything, you said your mother, I mean the one you thought to be, cursed you because you wronged a man named Hamal. This Rajan of Revat is named after that man?"

"Yes. That was Hamal the First, a Rajan of Revat, and this one is the same. Rather worse. But it depends on how one looks at it. Maybe if I think deeply, I will say Hamal the First always was a more dangerous man."

"You hate him?"

"I have every reason to."

"Should you really hate the dead? They are no more..."

Rudra narrowed his eyes. "I don't care about morals. Dead or not, they have caused my life to become a joke, and the damage done cannot be undone. They have tortured me in ways I don't want to talk about."

"I-I want to say something, but it won't be pleasant to you."

Rudra waved his hand dismissively. "Say it."

"Like, what if you were a killer in your last life? Say a man who killed innocent people to earn a living. Or maybe I was a mad king who enjoyed butchering men and set on wars against happy countries. Thing is, it doesn't really matter what we were, what matters is what we want to be now. We can do good now. So many lives we have had. How do we know we weren't a sinner in one? Should it mean we will always remain hated or can never outgrow that state? We always can."

"You weren't a sinner in your last life."

"We never know."

I do. "Little one, trust me, I know more than you." Rudra smiled at her. "You say this thing because you believe you died a bad death for the sins you had committed. But really, does it make any sense? You spew nonsense because of what people have injected in your head. You weren't a bad guy, Indu. You were a little one."

"Little one?"

"Yes, little–" Rudra bit his lips. "Oh, I-I mean to say you are short and nice, sometimes have a temper. But overall, a short happy girl. I think you were that only. Who knows, maybe a princess even!"

"That's so mean of you. You called me little one because of my height! See, you don't need to be proud of your tall stature. I am no little thing. I am strong." Indumala flexed her muscles, nothing in comparison to Rudra's burly arms. "I am strong."

Rudra walked up to her, flaunting a smirk. Placing a hand on the wall, he locked her in a sweet trap. "Let me see." He scrutinised her from head to toe, then tickled her ears with his whispering, "Strong?"

"I-I am," she stammered.

"I will still call you little one when we are alone. It excites me to see you angry."

Indumala was red like the baby sun of dawn. Her nostrils flared. "Don't try to dominate me."

"I don't need to."

"Move."

"No."

"This is my room."

"Well, my palace. My kingdom."

"But I am not yours."

"We will see."

That was it. The butterflies in her stomach were ready to wage war. She punched him in the guts. Rudra clutched his stomach and stooped down. "That hurts, little one!"

She smacked his head. "Don't try to be smart."

"Alright, wait, wait," Rudra raised his hands in defeat. "You are brave. You are strong. You are the best. But Indu, give me permission to call you little one when alone. That's my nickname for you! Maybe you can give me one too?"

"No."

"Please?"

Indumala huffed. "Fine. I will call you...Pasha?"

Goosebumps formed on Rudra's skin. "Pa-pasha?"

Indumala shrugged. "Random name. Since you want one, I just went with the first one that came to my head. I know it sound strange, but–"

"Pasha is a wonderful name!"

Indumala was again surprised by the happy tears glistening in his eyes. Was he so joyous that she gave him a nickname, even if so weird? What in the world did she relate to it? She didn't know. But he was happy. He merrily circled around her, clapping his hands.

"Indu, I think we should give gifts to everyone, shouldn't we? I think we are going to Revat next month. Before that, all of us need to be in good spirits!"

Definitely it wasn't the visit to Revat that propelled him to take such a decision. Indumala knew it was the nickname thing. He liked the name Pasha so much? She couldn't imagine. But again, if he was delighted, so was she.

"Pasha, I want a gift too," she jested.

Rudra grinned. "As many as you want. I will take my leave now. I need to celebrate this. This is amazing!"

Indumala broke into giggles watching him sway to his own humming.