Virendra sat at the grand dining table, listening to the idle morning chatter of the court ladies. His mind had been occupied by Devsena's unusual lapse the night before, but it wasn't until Jayvarma's wife casually mentioned her concern over Devsena's distraction that his curiosity was truly piqued.
"She's never lost herself in a song before," the woman mused, frowning slightly. "But last night, it was as if her mind was elsewhere. Slipping words about her own actions into a lullaby for Krishna? It's unlike her."
Virendra leaned back, hiding his intrigue behind a neutral expression. "What exactly did she say?" he asked, feigning mild interest.
"She questioned herself," the woman explained. "Something about making a simpleton stand before a charging ox, that she wasn't in her right mind. Then she told Krishna to sleep, as if she were scolding herself."
Virendra's fingers tapped against the wooden surface. Devsena was many things—fierce, intelligent, proud—but guilt was rarely one of them. If she was questioning herself, then the supposed 'simpleton' must have left an impression on her. More than that, she wasn't one to be easily deceived. If she harbored even the slightest doubt, it meant there was a reason for it.
Later that day, he found himself watching Shivu from a distance, observing his behavior with greater scrutiny. The supposed simple-minded man, who had taken an ox's charge and barely flinched, now limped through the courtyard, wincing in exaggerated pain. It was an act—Virendra was sure of it. But why?
He approached Kumar Varma, who was practicing his swordplay nearby. "Tell me, how is our new guard?"
Kumar Varma huffed, wiping sweat from his brow. "A simpleton, like I said. But he's strong, I'll give him that. Though I swear, there was a moment when he split a log clean through, yet I was the one holding his hand." He chuckled. "I suppose I must be stronger than I thought."
Virendra's mind sharpened. He had seen Kumar Varma's skill before—adequate, but not enough to split a thick log in a single stroke. If the blade had cut so cleanly, the strength had come from Shivu, not Kumar Varma. And yet, Shivu continued his facade, acting the fool while drawing Devsena's attention.
That night, Virendra sat in his chambers, staring at a blank parchment, deep in thought. There was one man he knew with the skill to split a log with ease, with the ability to withstand a charging beast without true harm—one man who also happened to be absent from Mahishmati at this very moment.
Bahubali.
The realization settled in his chest like a stone. But why was he here? And more importantly, why was he hiding?
A slow smile formed on Virendra's lips. This was going to be interesting.
Let me know if you want to expand any part further or add more intrigue to Virendra's discovery!
The grand halls of Mahishmati buzzed with the hushed murmurs of courtiers and ministers, their words barely audible beneath the towering pillars. However, in the private chambers of Bijjaladeva, the atmosphere was thick with something more potent than idle court gossip—carefully spun manipulation.
Bhallaladeva stood by the intricately carved wooden window, gazing out at the vast empire that should have been his. He clenched his fists but quickly forced himself to relax as he heard his father's deliberate footsteps approaching.
"Patience, my son," Bijjaladeva said in his usual gravelly voice. "You have been denied the throne, but that does not mean you will be denied everything."
Bhallaladeva turned, his sharp eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
Bijjaladeva smirked, taking a seat, his crippled hand resting heavily on the armrest. "Your mother, Sivagami, prides herself on fairness, but she is still a mother—prone to emotional decisions. It is time we use that."
Bhallaladeva crossed his arms, waiting for his father to elaborate.
"She adores you, but she is also bound by duty. To claim the throne outright is beyond our reach for now, but what if you were to gain something else that would ensure your influence? A queen, perhaps?"
Bhallaladeva frowned before realization dawned. "DevSena."
Bijjaladeva grinned. "Yes, the princess of Kunthala. Strong-willed, fierce, and intelligent. But more importantly, she is growing closer to Bahubali. If he wins her heart, he gains both a formidable ally and the unwavering support of Kunthala's people. That must not happen."
Bhallaladeva's expression hardened. "And how do you propose we ensure that does not happen?"
"Simple," Bijjaladeva said. "We make Sivagami believe that DevSena belongs to you."
---
Later that evening, Sivagami sat in her private chambers, reviewing petitions when a concerned minister entered. The man bowed deeply before hesitantly speaking. "Maharani, there is something you must know."
Sivagami raised an eyebrow. "Speak."
"Your son, Bhallaladeva... He has seemed troubled of late."
She placed her scroll aside, her full attention now on the minister. "Troubled? How so?"
The minister hesitated before continuing, "It appears he has been struggling with his emotions regarding his brother being chosen as king over him. He speaks little of it, but those close to him sense his turmoil."
A shadow flickered over Sivagami's face. She had thought Bhallaladeva had accepted the decision, but doubt now gnawed at her. Rising from her seat, she ordered her attendants to prepare her for a visit to her elder son's chambers.
Upon arriving, Sivagami found Bhallaladeva seated in silent contemplation, a rare sight for the warrior prince. His usually impassive face softened upon seeing her, and he immediately stood to greet her.
"Mother," he said with a small bow.
"I have heard troubling things," Sivagami said, her tone both firm and concerned. "That you are burdened with unspoken grief. Do you resent the decision I made?"
Bhallaladeva shook his head. "No, Mother. I do not desire the throne at the cost of my brother's worth. He is a capable leader, and I am certain he will rule justly."
Sivagami exhaled, relief evident in her eyes. "Then what troubles you?"
Bhallaladeva hesitated before sighing. "It is a different matter entirely, something personal. But it does not matter, for duty comes before desire."
Sivagami's gaze sharpened. "You are my son, Bhallaladeva. Your happiness is not something to be discarded so easily. Tell me."
At that moment, a close companion of Bhallaladeva, one of his most trusted followers, stepped forward, holding a rolled-up parchment. He unrolled it carefully before presenting it to Sivagami.
"My prince has been deeply troubled, Maharani," the man said, lowering his eyes. "Because his heart has chosen someone he deems unattainable."
Sivagami's eyes fell upon the parchment, a beautifully drawn portrait of DevSena staring back at her.
She blinked in surprise. "The princess of Kunthala?"
Bhallaladeva remained silent, his expression one of feigned resignation. "She is not someone I can claim, Mother. She is fierce, proud, and would never accept anything forced upon her. Besides, I would not interfere with whatever alliances you see fit."
Sivagami's mind raced. DevSena was a formidable princess, a warrior with grace and intelligence. And more importantly, a queen worthy of Mahishmati. If Bhallaladeva had feelings for her, it was only fitting that she ensure they were reciprocated.
"Do not speak such nonsense," Sivagami said firmly. "You are my son, and I will see to it that your desires are not disregarded. If DevSena is worthy in your eyes, then she shall be yours."
Bhallaladeva lowered his gaze, hiding the smirk that threatened to appear.
"I will arrange for her to be your wife," Sivagami declared. "This, I promise you."
Bijjaladeva, who had remained silent throughout, finally smiled. The trap had been set, and Sivagami, in her love for her son, had walked right into it.
The chapter has been expanded to include more detailed manipulation by Bhallaladeva and Bijjaladeva, as well as Sivagami's emotional reasoning that leads her to make the decision. Let me know if you need further refinements!
---
Virendra sat in the private chamber of his palace, gazing at the distant hills visible from the intricately carved balcony. The early morning sun cast a golden hue over the land, but his mind was occupied with something far more pressing. The information he had gathered over the past few days had led him to an inescapable conclusion—Shivu was no ordinary man.
The first suspicion had crept in subtly, through whispers among the palace attendants. It was Jayvarma's wife who had first mentioned Devsena's unusual concern for the simple-minded guard. A woman as strong-willed as Devsena would not show such attention without reason. Then came the tale of the lullaby—a lapse in her composure during a public function. She had sung verses that betrayed a hidden turmoil within her, words that hinted at an unresolved guilt. Virendra had taken note. Devsena did not feel guilt easily.
Then, there were the reports from Kumar Varma. The young prince, though often boastful, was not blind. He had spoken of Shivu's unexpected strength, a feat that even he could not fully understand. The split log incident had been brushed off as a coincidence, but Kumar Varma was not entirely convinced.
Virendra knew that deception had layers, and to peel them back, he needed a direct test.
He called for his trusted guard captain.
"Bring Shivu to the training grounds," he ordered, his voice calm yet firm. "We will test his skills today."
The captain bowed and left, and Virendra leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping the polished armrest. If Shivu was indeed who he suspected, then this was more than just a mere game of deception. It was a revelation that could change the course of future events.
---
Meanwhile, Bahubali—still maintaining his guise as the simple-minded Shivu—was lounging in the barracks when the guard captain approached. "Shivu, you have been called to the training grounds."
Bahubali blinked, forcing a slow, confused expression onto his face. "Training? But I am just a simple man… I only just recovered from being hit by the ox." He rubbed his side dramatically.
The guard captain gave him an unimpressed look. "The prince wishes to see your progress."
Bahubali sighed internally but nodded. He could not refuse without drawing more suspicion. Kattappa, standing nearby, gave him a subtle nod, a silent reminder to maintain his act.
As they walked toward the training grounds, Bahubali felt an unusual sense of anticipation. He had always wanted to meet the famed Virendra in person. Now, the moment was upon him.
---
The training grounds were bustling with soldiers practicing their forms, but an area had been cleared specifically for this test. Virendra stood at the edge, observing the new recruit with an analytical gaze. He was not an imposing figure like Bahubali, but his presence carried the weight of authority.
Bahubali lowered his head slightly, maintaining the act of a submissive and slow-witted man.
"Shivu," Virendra called. His voice was neither harsh nor kind—just watchful. "I hear you have been learning under Kumar Varma. Let us see what you have learned."
Kumar Varma grinned, stepping forward. "Yes! Let him face me! I will go easy on him."
Bahubali resisted a chuckle. He nodded dumbly. "I… will try, my lord."
A wooden practice sword was handed to him. He grasped it loosely, as if uncomfortable with the weight.
Virendra gave the signal.
Kumar Varma lunged, swinging his practice sword in what was meant to be a light attack. Bahubali hesitated, then clumsily raised his sword to block, allowing himself to stumble back a step.
Virendra's eyes narrowed slightly. The movement was off—not the struggle of a weakling, but the deliberate hesitation of a man holding back. He had seen real incompetence before, and this was not it.
"Again," he ordered.
Kumar Varma swung faster this time. Bahubali ducked—just a fraction too smoothly. He immediately pretended to lose balance, falling onto the ground with an exaggerated groan. The watching soldiers chuckled.
Kumar Varma shook his head. "Ah, Shivu, you need better footing."
Bahubali grinned sheepishly, rubbing his head. "Yes… I am not very good."
Virendra, however, was no longer laughing. His suspicions were growing stronger. This man was acting—of that he was now sure. But the real question remained—why?
He leaned forward slightly. "One last test," he said.
He turned to a nearby soldier and pointed to a stack of heavy training weights. "Bring one here."
A large metal weight was placed before Shivu. Virendra crossed his arms. "Lift it."
Bahubali feigned hesitation, eyeing the weight warily. He reached for it, gripping the edges, then made an exaggerated show of struggling. He barely lifted it an inch before letting it drop with a loud thud, panting as if exhausted.
Virendra's lips curved slightly. He had his answer.
There was only one man who could lift such weights with ease but would pretend otherwise.
Bahubali.
He kept his expression neutral, nodding. "That will be all, Shivu."
Bahubali bowed slightly, relieved that the test was over. He turned away, walking back towards the barracks with Kattappa at his side. But as they left, he couldn't shake the feeling that Virendra's eyes were still on him, sharp and knowing.
As soon as they were out of sight, Kattappa muttered under his breath. "He knows."
Bahubali sighed. "I know."
Virendra stood watching them disappear, deep in thought. This had just become far more interesting than he had anticipated. The game had begun.