Five years later

"It is a good suggestion Rana sa, we can avoid a massacre and at the same time, be associated with the wealthiest and most powerful Kingdom of the Far South."

The Prime Minister of Chittorgarh exclaimed the moment the advice of an alliance was put forth. The Maharana of Chittorgarh, Rana Rawal Ratan Singh was a wise man and he knew that it was perhaps the best decision they could take. Ideally, he would have wanted to declare an all out war and satisfied his burning longing to crush Mahishmati and her Monarch under his boot, raise their entire civilisation to the ground but he had to think this out more coolly. 

His ministers were right. 

Though on orders of Chittorgarh, most of the Rajputana kingdoms will join the battle on his side and he might have a numerical advantage but Mahishmati will have a more tactical advantage. They will have to declare the seize on their territory, a place which is completely unknown to them yet it will be the enemy's home ground. 

To add to that, Amarendra Bahubali was wildly popular in those territories. The mighty Chieftains of the fearsome south western tribes and even the mystical foreign rulers of the southern most land from across the oceans will jump at his side on one word. That is not even counting his allies from across the Decan. 

He will also have to factor in the clever Queen Devasena in the picture. 

In the past five years of her reign she has managed to open communication through trade with Mahishmati from across the world and garnered the support of the enviously rich merchants from the Far West and East. Their coffers were already overfilled with riches and their subjects heartily prosperous. 

So there is no chance of a manipulative mutiny. 

But the biggest block against them and the sharpest thorn at his side would be the Commander General of Mahishmati's forces. 

Senapati Bhallaladeva, in a very short period of time, since gaining his post, had become notorious throughout their land for his ingenious battle tactics and his almost ruthless passion for victory. That man and his infamously deadly elite squad of soldiers who are named the Kalkis have ravaged Mahishmati's enemies even before they have had a chance to stand upright. 

The rumoured Eldest Prince of Mahishmati has turned their armies and defence troops into a single well oiled lethal system who have till date never lost a battle. They stood undefeated, invincible and almost infallible. 

Prince Bhallaladeva was merciless, conniving and a killing machine. 

With Bahubali's astonishing popularity, Devasena's crafty political efficiency and Bhallaladeva's terrifying warcraft, Mahishmati stood nigh unconquerable. 

But the Empires that can't be defeated from outside forces can very easily crumble from the inside. One just has to find the underlying fissures and tear them open for the foundation to break apart. 

That was exactly what Maharana Ratan Singh was planning to hit upon. 

"You right absolutely correct Mahamantriji. If we can't churn the butter with a straight finger, we'll need to bend it crooked. An alliance by marriage will be perfect."

The courtiers breathed a sigh of relief as the possibility of perhaps the most violent and biggest war of this century was avoided by a narrow miss. Little did they know the truth about their beloved King's actual motive. The Maharana clutched the handles of his throne in a white knuckled grip and his face morphed dark into a scary expression of utter loathing. 

"They will not know what hit them."

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The youngest Princess of Chittorgarh tried muffling her giggles under a hand while she and her associates peeked at the arena from the side. 

Rajkunwari Chandrabala was quite the mischief monger. She loved nothing more than a good prank. And right now, her target was set on her older sibling who was busy practising archery in the Royal training grounds. 

Chandrabala tiptoed inside the arena not bothered about the non verbal protests of the guards and her friends' nervous chattering. She walked her way as silently as a kitten towards her sibling and just before she could grab the supposedly unsuspecting person, she was whipped around with a deadly force, her right arm twisted behind her and her back crashed against a chest as a sparkling blade was shoved under her chin with a lethal precision. 

Chandrabala let out an agonized squeak and saw her bevy of maidservants shriek and run inside to her help. 

"Bhavani... leave me sister. Weren't you with the bow, from where did you even fish out a blade, that also so fast?"

Her sibling's voice whispered at her ear from the back while her poor captured arm was squeezed in a playfully painful way. 

"How many times do I have to tell you, don't creep up on me ever.. one of these days you'll lose an arm or an eye. And my dear little sister... a warrior always has a blade up their sleeve. Remember.."

"Okay.. okay fine.. ahhh.. now will you please leave me Jiji. It is hurting.."

The Eldest Princess of the Chittorgarh left her stepsister after a few seconds of her childish struggle and laughed at her whining as she went on complaining how she always bullies her, when everyone in the palace knows how the younger Princess is pampered beyond measure. 

"Mrignayni..."

The Maharana's booming voice broke both the sisters' playful fight and they turned towards their father. Chandrabala ran and embraced the King giggling while Mrignayni touched her sword to her forehead before handing it over to an attendant at the side. 

"I have to speak with your sister, my dear. Will you leave us alone for a bit?"

As Chandrabala and her gaggle of friends made their way out, the Maharana and Mrignayni started walking towards the inner chambers of the Palace, the King's bodyguards following them loosely, a few metres behind, close enough to jump at a moment's notice but far enough to not mistakenly overhear their conversation. 

"The time has come my daughter."

Mrignayni glanced at her father sharply before her shapely lips pillowed in a dangerous smirk quite unbecoming of a Princess. 

She was unarguably known to be the most beautiful woman to have ever walked the Earth, in this part of the world at least. With long luscious swathes of raven hair reaching her slender waist, skin the tone of amber cream and lips the shade of stained rose petals, her most arresting feature were her eyes. A heart shaped face housed the most mesmerising eyes ever. 

They were doe shaped and heavily lashed thus bestowing upon her, her name. 

She looked so pulchritudinous that it was almost surreal.. unearthly. 

Bards have sung lyrical about her infamous beauty throughout the desert lands leading many a desperate nobleman to ask for her hand. But the Maharana has turned everyone away, even angering some of the more powerful Rulers. 

Which had led to an infamous rumour that she may be cursed...

Such beauty will lead to mankind's downfall and people had started reiterating the stories of how Tilottama... the apsara, instigated and caused the deaths of the powerful Demonic brothers, bewitching both, in her trap. How Draupadi's beauty had led to an entire clan's destruction in perhaps the bloodiest war in Human history, how Devi Sita's beauty led to Ravana's entire family's death and Lanka's subsequent fall. 

Mrignayni had heard the tales in passing and only laughed in bitter amusement at how men have very conveniently yet again blamed the women for their own inability to restrain their animalistic urges and their dark desires which had ultimately manifested such destruction. It was so typical that it wasn't even tragic at this point. 

But Chittorgarh's Elder Princess could care less about stupid Kings and their longing for possessing her like she was some priceless figurine they needed to add to their collection or decorate like a mantelpiece in their gold and ivory build towers. She was no ordinary damsel who was waiting for her Prince. She was an ill kept wildfire, restrained with barbed wires of a purpose long decided even before her birth. If let loose, she will burn down everyone on her path to achieve her final destination. 

These foolish men, half in their cups, have talked about her dainty feet and her lithe fingers, her gentle eyelashes and her voluptuously soft curves with greedy ardour. But none had seen the imperceptible tapestry of battle scars over her entire torso, the wiry built of athletic muscles on her long arms and legs. They had heard her sweet voice singing at the advent of spring, not the piercing bellow of her war cry. 

They have seen her dance, seen her play the veena, read poetry and discuss literature. 

None of them had seen her hack off the heads of the fearsome Gonds and slash the limbs off, of the equally murderous Bhills, attacking their borders. Hadn't seen the empty look of a cold blooded killer in those usually warm mud brown eyes. They had gotten the waft of petrichor, jasmine and sandalwood from her, not the sweet cloying metallic scent of blood, sweat and despair... the burning odour of revenge. 

They knew nothing of her. 

And nor would any member of the family she was marrying into. 

"About damn time..."

She whispered quietly, feeling the adrenaline of a long buried dream resurfacing with a painful vengeance. 

"Mahishmati will face the consequences of her misdeeds soon enough and I will finally be able to quench my thirst of revenge. All these years, Nayni.. all these painfully long years of wait will finally bear fruit."

The Maharana stopped walking and Nayni followed suit. He took her scarred hands in his own and looked into his eldest daughter's soft brown eyes. He could see conviction marring with that ever present conflict in her sharp gaze. 

He knew, he has been cruel with her always... moulding her into a living weapon for his own purpose.. feeding her a slow poison throughout her childhood but he had no other option. She was his best chance, his only chance. He couldn't risk doing this with Chandrabala. Not only because his youngest was too naïve, too good and too trusting but also because he couldn't bear to lose her. 

Mrignayni, on the other hand... was expendable. 

The Maharana was fond of his eldest daughter but couldn't completely love her ever... not since his Elder Queen and only love had died two years after giving birth to her. In his eyes, Nayni had killed her mother, making her too weak, letting the disease decay her fragile body right in front of his helpless eyes. 

Unfortunately, the elder princess had always been made aware of this excruciating fact. In one way, being her father's pawn in this dangerous game was her own way of probably making up to him in someway. Hoping that sacrificing herself may garner her a little bit of her father's love. 

In death be it. 

"Your marriage is fixed with Amarendra Bahubali. I want you to be extremely careful Nayni. Only respond when I make contact, not before that."

She frowned incomprehensively. 

"Bahubali..? Isn't he married already? I have heard he loves his Queen very much. How did he agree to get married again?"

"People do a lot of things to avoid war, my dear. Especially... guilty people. But it is of no matter to us. You will have unrestricted access to the palace once you are married to the King. That is all what our priority is, at present."

Mrignayni looked towards the sky once they had almost reached the foyer of the Palace. The setting sun had painted the western horizon a beautiful vermillion and she could hear the evening birds chirping from a distance. 

And not for the first time, she felt like in all this maniacal manipulations and wily statecraft, plannings and plotting the downfall of empires and orchestrating the destruction of unaware families, she has lost herself. 

She felt a crushing sense of heavy loneliness weighing down on her chest and wondered whether she will ever feel remotely human again. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

 "I feel like my feet will fall off now Mamayya.. this brat will make us both breathless and half dead by the time we manage to catch up to him."

Queen Devasena said panting between heavy breaths as she leaned against a pillar. Kattappa who was mirroring the Queen's position on the opposite pillar nodded his head in exhausted agreement. 

"I have to agree with you my dear. Now you know, what I had to face when the King was a child."

"Was he this hyperactive?"

"Worse.."

"Oh God! Mahi! Stop now my darling... we are tired."

Little Mahendra Bahubali who had kicked up a storm in the Royal palace looked far from tired and was in no mood to acquiesce to his poor mother's request any time soon. He ran as fast as his tiny feet would carry him, almost flying down the stairs of the main courtyard, a few guards and his personal attendants along with the Queen's handmaidens, hot on his heels. 

"My Prince.. please.. please... stop.."

Praniti, Devasena's chief attendant and her closest confidante gasped almost collapsing on the ground as Mahi squealed in babyish laughter which rang happily in the halls of their palace uninhibited. 

"Cath me ifh you cahn Atta.."

"Bahu!"

Devasena glared at her errant toddler from her place at the top of the stairs hoping her angry eyes would finally make the Prince listen but to no avail. Kattappa had recovered enough to ponder upon whether his old limbs will be able to handle another round of the entire palace when they heard the gongs of the inner gate reverberate in the almost quiet spring evening. 

The massive doors swung inwards and Prince Bhallaladeva stormed inside much to the shock of everyone assembled. He looked like he was coming to the Palace directly from some skirmish of sort. 

His towering frame was dusty and bloody scratches littered his strong arms and there was an ugly blue black bruise on his left cheekbone. Those hypnotic amber eyes were trained straight ahead ignoring the surroundings fully. He had his long wavy shoulder length curls tied with a simple black band on the nape which had let a few unruly strands escape to kiss his chiselled face and an silken angavastram was hastily draped over his muscular lean torso. 

The Commander had been busy securing their borders since the past five years, always flitting in and out of the Capital city but he had rarely been spotted in the Palace. Not for the lack of trying from their King's side. He had conveniently ignored all of his younger brother's timid requests of attending any festivities or family gatherings citing some emergency or the other which apparently needed him immediately and couldn't be solved without his explicit presence. 

Amarendra had not given up hope though and wrote to him religiously, inviting him to every occasion. Devasena had once suggested using an official command from the King, which she knew Bhallaledeva as the General, couldn't have ignored but her husband was adamant at not using his power. 

"He is my elder brother Deva, I will not humiliate him by using my position of authority to force him into coming when he clearly doesn't want to."

Devasena who had been sitting beside him on the swing, having her head on his shoulder as they read another neatly scribbled formal message of excuse, the Elder Prince had sent back as a response to their Holi invitation, had asked him the obvious question. 

"Then why do you even keep asking him to?"

Amarendra had stroked his wife's curly tresses in reply and whispered back ruefully. 

"Because I hope, one day I can exhaust him into acquiescence for at least one time. I miss him Deva... I know he barely tolerates me but.. I want.. I never wanted this.. whatever happened. Mother... she will never bow down first and Anna will die before he bows. I wish I could magically go back and stop all this from happening."

Devasena had sighed. 

"I did tell you what he told me that night right? It was waiting to happen.. none of it was either your fault or mine. And frankly, I am sorry if it hurts you but I think the Rajmata is at fault here. She shouldn't have been so brutal... I cannot fault the Elder Prince for loosing his cool."

Amarendra had sighed in acceptance but his wife knew he would keep at it till either side melts because that was who he was. And Devasena would always support him in whatever he does because that was who she was. 

Seeing the Commander looking so oddly ruffled and also dressed so casually, without his usual armour and headgear and that artillery of weapons attached to his person was almost unnerving. In that sudden shock of seeing him walk in, everyone had forgotten about little Mahendra who had also not noticed the gigantic stranger stride in and crashed with him in an almighty move. 

Bhallaladeva stopped in his tracks, startled at the impact but poor Mahendra was sent flying over at the opposite direction to land on his rump at the stone flooring of the courtyard. The servants gasped and the guards felt their stomachs hollow out at the implication of the situation. 

The Commander was terrifying enough to full grown battle hardened men, what will this poor child feel? And the first meeting their beloved Prince had to have with their menacing General, his mean looking Uncle had to be both strangely comical and somewhat tragic. 

The King will have all their heads on a silver platter if the Chief Kattappa or Her Highness, the Queen doesn't get to them first. 

Bhallaladeva stared at the exact likeness of his younger cousin from his childhood and recognized the toddler immediately. He had received the message from Mahishmati while he was stuck in a rather bloody battle with the Nagas of the far East. 

So this tiny creature was his nephew?

Were all children that miniscule or was it only this little guy? Had they been so small once? Those carefree days of childhood felt like a long forgotten fever dream. The child wasn't hurt was he? He didn't look like he will burst into tears and instead got up gingerly and stumbled towards him hilariously unafraid like a baby gazelle, learning his first steps. 

The audience looked on thunderstruck as Prince Mahendra Bahubali went and clutched his tall uncle's legs before climbing over him like a natural arboreal as if he was a tree and not a human being. Bhallaladeva seemed like he had frozen into a statue as everyone held their breaths, mentally getting chilled at the thought whether the Elder Prince will just pluck his nephew off himself and throw him away like a disc. 

They are all going to die. 

Mahendra unbothered about the sheer pandemonium he was creating in everyone's hearts giggled unabashedly while hanging onto the tall stranger's strong neck like a limpet. He gave the unmoved man a huge gummy smile and spoke in his usual adorable lisp. 

"You ale sho thall. Al you thath dhemon..Mamayya toldh me 'bout?"

Kattappa looked like he will faint and the servants had turned white in fear while the Queen kept looking strangely hopefully at the scene, fighting with her motherly instincts to snatch her baby away from potential harm. 

But much to all of their collective surprise Bhallaladeva raised a sharp eyebrow and his piercing eyes sparkled with amusement and something which could be called hesitant affection. 

"Yes. And I have come to gobble you up."

He replied in an oddly affable baritone, the usual bitter scathing tone completely absent making him sound almost endearing towards the clearly thrilled child. Little Mahi giggled breathless as his uncle plucked him from his neck and the latter decided it prudent to hang from his bicep now, before climbing over to sit on his shoulder happily. 

Bhallaladeva looked upwards and saw Devasena give him the brightest grin he had ever received from anyone in his life. Her entire face had lit up like a thousand suns and she had a hand pressed to her bosom in some inexplicable emotion. He smirked at his sister in law and crossed his arms across his chest bending almost imperceptibly laconic in his marked stance. 

"Looks like the brat will grow up to be as stupidly brave as you and that husband of yours..Celli."

Devsena replied back instantly, her eyes twinkling in the mischief of their shared banter. 

"I rather wish he grows up to be as irritatingly magnificent as you... Anna."

No one noticed Amarendra witnessing everything from the side walk in the terrace lining the courtyard, his eyes brimming with happy tears as a small flame of hope flickered in his heart. 

No one also noticed a resentful Bijlaldeva glaring balefully down at them from the directly opposite terrace, his ugly features twisted in malice. 

"And that will only happen when he survives that long, wouldn't it..."

His words weaved a forthcoming dark future which unfortunately none of them were aware of yet.