It was grim in the quarters of King Bajrabaahu. The air smelt of wine, as he downed yet another cup.
"Your Majesty," Queen Svetmala shrugged. "You have been drinking too much. It will hurt your health. Please be a little more considerate."
"I am happy today," he replied, without bothering to look at his wife.
"Indeed, it has been a great day today. Besides, Mallika is turning twenty tomorrow. I can't believe, my little girl is all grown up." A sweet smile spread across the queen's face.
"That's right," Bajrabaahu smiled. "I can finally get rid of that burden. But then again, it's getting riskier. Lord Arjun might decide to reveal himself anytime now. We can't let that happen, you know."
Svetmala's face hardened. "Why are you still trying to be an enemy to Lord Arjun? After all that had happened, do you still want to return to the Old Alliance? Our father, the late king Chandrasen had vowed to never do the like of that thing ever again..."
"That was my father's vow," Bajrabaahu waved casually. "And he kept it till his last breath. But it has nothing to do with me. In fact, I had never desired to make peace with Lord Arjun. Adopting Mallika was entirely my father's decision. If I had got to express my will back then, I would never ever have picked up the daughter of that priest!" He gulped down another cup of wine.
Svetmala's face was bereft of any expression. The calm of a few moments earlier was completely lost, and the air grew thick with tension. "Your Majesty, that was a terrible sin you committed twenty years ago, a sin you haven't atoned for. Mallika isn't our biological child, but you killed her father and her mother. Your men slaughtered her entire family just the day after she was born! Bringing her up as our child is the least we could have done! How can your regret that?!"
"Bah!" Bajrabaahu grimaced, placing the wine cup down on the table with an audible thud. "A sin I haven't atoned for?"
He rolled up the sleeves of his coat, revealing his arms. Svetmala shuddered as her eyes fell on a ghastly wound on his right arm, just below the shoulder. It looked like a raw wound that might spew blood any moment. The flesh all around was charred-- burnt to the bone! It was a wound that could never heal! Yet it wasn't a fresh one, but one that he had received twenty years ago, from the thunderous blade of Lord Arjun.
"This is what I have been bearing all my life!" The King growled. "Lord Arjun! That man crippled me for massacring the family of that priest who gave birth to Mallika. You know it well, my Queen, that ever since that day, I have never been able to lift a sword with my right hand!! Lord Arjun destroyed my life! And you say I should make peace with him? Impossible!"
"How can you blame this on Lord Arjun?!" Svetmala retorted. "If you hadn't killed Subhanu, Kuntala, Bhadrasen and that whole family, would you have borne the brunt of his rage?! And this isn't the first time a family was massacred by your Old Alliance. Just a couple of years ago, King Vidala wiped out the entire Charuvanshi clan for having opposed him! The Deadly Plagues broke out all over Shankhet, and thousands of people were killed! King Saptadhwaj even attacked Sailam. If Lord Arjun hadn't interfered, Sailam would have been annihilated completely in the Battle of Nallamalla! How can you still blame him?!" She was fuming silently, the painful memories of those troubled years resurfacing in her mind. After all that had happened, if Lord Arjun hadn't punished the Old Alliance, she would have doubted the Lord's morals! But, unfortunately, this wasn't the way everybody saw things.
"Of course," Bajrabaahu stood up, his eyes glinting maliciously, "I should worship him for saving Sailam! I should thank him for being generous enough to let go of me with just a crippled arm! Queen Svetmala, do you think your husband is a dog?!"
Svetmala's face fell. In her agitation, she had brought up all the things her husband most hated to discuss. She had momentarily forgotten that the mere mention of Lord Arjun's name was a taboo in Sailam, that it hurt the king's ego to such an extent that he didn't bother to regard anyone who mentioned it as an enemy of himself and his nation. She kept quiet.
"I will never submit to him. What is he?! A sorcerer who knows his tricks!" Bajrabaahu continued, making great efforts to not lose his calm on his wife. "And Mallika... I can never forget the prophecy she was born with. People say she was born of the blessings of Goddess Adi Shakti. People back in the Vindhyas, those who still follow the Bhanu family regard her as an incarnation of the Goddess. They say she will punish the wicked and deliver them to safety. And who are the wicked in their eyes? It's us, the ones who formed the Old Alliance to search for the Amrita, The Elixir of immortality! So, they say she is destined to kill us. If it hadn't been for Lord Arjun, I would have already gotten rid of her a hundred times by now, but... Anyways, I want you to restrain yourself, my Queen," he turned to face Svetmala who sat petrified like a stone statue at her husband's words. "The day isn't far when we either get rid of her or keep her under our clutches to be used against Lord Arjun." His voice was laced with a venomous laughter. "After all, she is the only weakness he has!"
Outside the room, Mallika stood rooted to her spot.
After waking up quite late that day, she had been feeling very blissful, for some unknown reason. So, in a spirited mood, she had gone over to the Shiva temple in the palace premise. After praying for a while and basking in the warmth and fragrance of the room that always gave her an inexplicable sense of fulfillment, she had picked up a few choice sweets. Placing them on a plate, she had come over to see her parents. Basically, she wanted to see her mother, and not her father, whom she disliked meeting. But on knowing that the Queen was in Bajrabaahu's quarters, she had forced herself to come over to his room.
Never had she expected to witness something that almost sucked her life out!
She.... wasn't the biological daughter of King Bajrabaahu and Queen Svetmala, neither the birth twin of Crown Prince Ashwin.
She was the daughter of somebody she wasn't even aware of-- somebody who had been murdered by the very man she had been regarding as her father all these years! She had been filial to a family that had caused the destruction of all her kins!
Mallika felt herself go weak in the knees. How she wished all this was just a nightmare!
But, unfortunately, it wasn't.
Gradually, she began walking away, her heart beating so feebly that she feared it might stop any moment. However hard she tried, she couldn't bring herself to understand what she had heard. Just how could this be?
The rays of the setting graced her face. The cool breeze caressed her cheeks. A large drop of tear slid down her cheeks. Had she been living a lie for all these years?
From a distance, the sound of bells tolling floated across to her. It was time for the evening Puja in the Durga temple that was located some distance from the palace.
The unanimous chants and praises coming from the temple could be distinctly heard--
"Hail the Goddess who has the splendour of a thousand suns!
Hail the mother of the creation, the one who nurtures the three realms!
Hail the slayer of the vicious Mahisha, the buffalo demon!
Hail the one who is the left half of Shankara!"
Mallika couldn't hear the chants. Her mind was fixated on one name-- Lord Arjun.
If she wanted to find out about herself, she needed to find out about this man. He... was the key to her reality.
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Author's Notes:-
Goddess Adi Shakti is a reference to Goddess Mahadevi, the supreme goddess according to the Shakta traditions of Hinduism. She is also the consort of Lord Shiva who is also known as Shankara.
Puja-- meaning worship.
**This story has been inspired by Indian mythology. However, the characters and events are entirely fictional and the developments in the story merely draw and will continue drawing references to one more events from Hindu mythology.
Also, there has been no interest in promoting any religion through this novel. Please enjoy it as a piece of fiction only.