#salaar fanfic

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 9 - The Monster and His Master

Part 8 | Part 10

Notes: Definitely NSFW

The next few months pass by in a blur, albeit a productive one. Khansar’s funds are carefully allocated across various administrations with special emphasis placed on programs pertaining to education, public health, and infrastructure. The government’s focus on foreign policy allows them to settle contracts with various energy management companies across the world to provide solutions for the electrical and water shortages occurring in their external agricultural territories. The continuous expansion of global strategies provides opportunities for reallocation of employment through various industries including manufacturing and trade, though Khansar stays vigilant in maintaining a diplomatic image by hiding its more profitable ventures away from prying eyes. 

Change doesn’t come as fast as Varadha initially hopes, the truth being that mistakes occur more frequently than not and it is enough to give him pounding headaches that won’t subside. Moments of high stress are all it takes for him to retreat into himself, gaze faraway as he analyzes every possible solution over and over, a heaviness settling into the line of his shoulders.

During breakfast one morning, when Varadha is toying more with his food than eating it, Baba finally cracks. 

“The responsibility of this kingdom is not yours alone, Beta. There are entire organizations and administrations working alongside you to find solutions to the issues we are facing. Let them do their jobs, while you do yours. Not every burden is yours to bear.” Then he lets out a small smile. “Anyway, it’s important for you to learn the importance of a good stroll over a hasty run. What you’re doing now is establishing a strong foundation for Khansar’s growth and longevity. Take that for granted and you’ll give way for its fall.”

Varadha doesn’t finish his breakfast that morning and he doesn’t miraculously stop worrying either. Still, he begins to notice just how much people care. It isn’t just his face worn from sleepless nights and early mornings. It isn’t just his eyes that contain a spark of determination in the face of challenges. 

The reassurance is enough to let him sleep a bit more peacefully at night. It also helps that he feels less alone than he has in years. Particularly in moments of leisure that are spent in the presence of his loved ones. 

Morning garden strolls with Baba as he talks about his life and his Noor. 

When she’d leave for her business meetings, I wouldn’t know how to handle myself. So anxious and restless till she came home. Time used to stand still without her, but in her presence, every day would pass by faster than a strike of lightning, and just as beautiful too. I’ve had years with her… it still doesn’t feel like it was enough time. She’d be proud of you, if she was here to see you now.

Afternoon chaturanga sessions with Baachi as he curses out Varadha for winning every round. 

I still look over my shoulders sometimes, waiting for someone to fuck with us. We’ve endured years of humiliation and it feels like there’s more to withstand. I’m still not used to the way people look at us with respect when we leave the palace. I’m thankful for what we have Anna, and I’m scared to lose it too— Fuck! Again? What’s the point in playing with me when you keep winning anyway? 

Evening movie nights with Deva as they curl up on the couch, shedding their responsibilities and falling into domesticity. 

I don’t know how I did it, but I’ve managed to convince Amma to come back to Khansar. I think the only reason she’s even budging is because I’ve been begging her to come back with me and telling her it’ll be different under your rule. Even then, she’s hesitant about staying anywhere in the capital. I don’t know if I can convince her to stay in the palace, not without putting her ill at ease. After everything she’s done for me, I have to draw the line on her behalf at some point. I’m thinking of getting her a place at the outskirts of town. I’m going to hate not seeing you every night, though.

That doesn’t end up becoming a problem for too long. The first night that Deva stays away at his mother’s new house, Varadha tosses and turns for hours on end, restful sleep alluding him. His cranky mood the next morning has the entire palace walking on eggshells. That is, until Deva enters the council room later on in the day for one of their meetings. They stay on different ends of the room, but when their gazes meet, the exhaustion drains visibly from their bodies and the palace is able to breathe once more. 

“Come home with me tonight?” Deva asks once they leave the room, walking shoulder to shoulder. Varadha’s step falters for a second before he goes back to matching Deva’s stride. 

“What?” Varadha carefully observes their surroundings, staying alert until he’s sure there’s no one else around them. 

“For dinner, you idiot.” Deva’s lips quirk. “Not some clandestine meeting of lovers.”

“Can’t fault me for checking, Bangaram. I never can tell what’s going on in that filthy mind of yours.” Varadha shrugs, biting the inside of his cheek to hide his smile.

“Yes, because I’m dying for a chance to ravish you in my mother’s home.” Deva rolls his eyes, but takes a step closer to him anyway, bending down so his gravelly voice can whisper. “Though… why bother with the wait when I can fuck you in that closet instead?” 

~*~

The first dinner at Amma’s ends up being more awkward than Varadha thought possible. As inviting as she is, there’s a prying gleam in her eyes as she observes the two of them, trying to gauge what could’ve happened during the past few months for her son to willingly return to this godforsaken place. To move her here as well. He finds himself trying to impress her for some reason, telling her about all the changes he and his team are trying to bring about to the city. If he was being honest with himself, for a moment it felt like the words were being forcefully ejected from his mouth, anxiety refusing to let go of the trigger. However, when there is a lapse in conversation after dinner while they put away leftovers, Varadha catches a glimpse of Amma looking at him with a relieved expression. He doesn’t know what it means, but is able to breathe easier when she sends him off with a box of leftover chepala pulusu (fish curry) and tells him to come visit again soon.

The weekly dinners end up becoming a reprieve for Varadha when he starts to realize just how much he feels like a kid again under Amma’s roof. Gone are his responsibilities of being Karta when he steps into the threshold. She acts with him as she always had, feeding him exorbitant amounts of food, reprimanding him for not sleeping enough, and even going to the extent of massaging his scalp when he confesses to her of the pounding headache he’s suffered with for days. 

His eyes close at the feeling of her fingers running through his scalp, the smell of medicinal oil oddly pleasant and soothing as she works the tension out from his muscles. Amma continues to talk to him, voice low and pleasant as she urges him to take better care of himself and something breaks inside him. A ball lodges in his throat and he can feel wetness forming behind closed lids. When they flicker open, Deva is standing in front of him, a glass of water in hand. Concern immediately clouds his features and he shifts his body forward, only to stop when Varadha discreetly shakes his head, a wobbly smile forming on his lips. 

“Stay here with us tonight,” Amma commands, unaware of the plight he’s facing. “The second you go back to that palace you’ll spend the night overworking yourself and I refuse to let you run yourself into the ground. Deva, go set up the guest room and don’t let him leave till tomorrow morning.”

Later that night, once Amma is asleep, Deva sneaks into Varadha’s room, crawling into bed and holding him tight. 

“Are you okay?” Deva sighs against his ears when Varadha doesn’t answer immediately. “Amma ki chadastham ekuvara, anthe (Amma is just stubborn, that’s all). I’m sorry if what she said hurt you at all.” 

“No, she didn’t do anything wrong.” Varadha gulps, pressing back into Deva. “Amma gurthukuochindi, ra (I remembered my mom).” 

Deva doesn’t reply, choosing to press a kiss into Varadha’s hair, wrapping his entire body around his lost king and trapping him within the confines of his limbs. Varadha sleeps more peacefully that night than he ever has during the past few months.

The next morning as Amma sends them out of the house, she stops Varadha in his place, a hand wrapped around his arm. 

“I’ve been keeping an eye on you two since you were children. Karta and Salaar aside, when it comes down to it, you’re just two kids who’ve been forced to grow up too soon. Don’t let those titles define you for the rest of your life, nana. Don’t make the same mistakes as…” The way her gaze digs into his is enough to make him understand, so he nods back, a promise in his own right. 

She lets him go.

~*~

The peace doesn’t last long, it hardly ever does in a world like theirs. 

They start hearing of various raids across India that begin to interfere with their black market trade. Before they can consider taking action, casinos, brokerages, and banks partnered with Khansar are stormed in an effort to prevent money laundering and other illegal activities. Trucks containing various goods such as weapons and drugs are stopped en route, all the material seized and confiscated by the government. A frenzy erupts in the capital as calls are made to various seeds and contacts planted in India, demanding answers for the sudden crack down. The answer, it turns out, is rather simple.

The government of India aims to fight back against crime… to fight back against Khansar. 

It’s not an answer that sits well with anyone. Definitely not Varadha as everyone in his court looks to him for answers. Tensions rise every day in Kotagada as the Doralu debate with their Karta about the best course of action to take to preserve their economy. In the end, there is nothing but disdain as the court adjourns, no real solution to be found. 

For the time being, the best course of action is to be more discreet and careful than usual. They run checks on their supply chain to prevent security breaches. Only certain businesses are given access to trade after a thorough inspection process. Different routes are established, intricate and ever changing, with smaller shipments being sent out at a time. Overall, it’s not a perfect system, but it’s enough to get them by.

~*~

Deva’s eyes stay firmly planted on the ground and he hopes that Baba will finally break the silence. He doesn’t. He holds his cap in his hands, leaning back against the chair as if his age has finally caught up to him. Bilal doesn’t seem to be of much help either as he paces back and forth, carefully avoiding Rhinda who scowls at the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. 

The creak of a door opening snaps them to attention. Varadha steps out, face void of any emotion as he jutts his chin. 

“You can go see him now, if you’d like.” Baba doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence before he disappears through the door. 

“I didn’t even know he could move that fast.” Rhinda tries to joke, but no one laughs. He doesn’t look too amused either as he falls back into his chair. 

Varadha makes his way to the large window, fists clenched at his sides. Within seconds, Deva is next to him.

“The name of Khansar was enough to stop them not too long ago. Now they’ve attacked us at the heart of it.” Varadha’s hand clasps ironclad around Deva’s tattoo. “I want them dead. Each and every person who dared to lay a hand on him.”

“As you command, Karta.” 

“The thought of Khansar alone should terrify them. Touch what belongs to us–”

“You pave the path to your own destruction.”

The Karta’s fist drops back down to his side and his weapon is released. 

~*~

Death for anyone who stops the seal. 

That is what Deva declares. No one in court bothers to argue. Not when it was a law that would benefit their own economy. Even if they did object, they wouldn’t challenge the monster who just committed a massacre to please his master. 

Rakshasudu.

That is what they begin to call him. Not to his face or the Karta’s. Not in scorn either, but in awe of the sheer power that he exudes. The new name becomes a declaration of acceptance. 

A violent man for a violent city. 

~*~

“A symbol. All that it brands, belongs to you.” 

The simple phrase from Deva’s lips ignites a raging fire within him. Varadha’s eyes darken in the confines of the room, gaze honing in on the devil’s mark stamped against Deva’s bare chest. 

“Come here.” Varadha commands. He watches as Deva saunters towards him, the glow from the lantern casting shadows onto his rugged physique. His fingers ghost against the seal, drinking in the intricate artwork that decorates tanned skin. The eyes of the devil leer into him, ferocious teeth barred in contempt. It was nothing more than a small circle of ink, able to fade away with the swipe of a finger. Yet, it possessed the ability to shake an entire nation to its core. 

So much power in such a small symbol. 

And the man who imbued it with that power stands before him, beautiful and pliant, his face sculpted to express unbounded devotion. 

Varadha’s hand darts out, fingers wrapping around the underside of Deva’s jaw as he tugs him closer. Deva breathes sharply, surprised by the action, but doesn’t move. He waits patiently, unblinking as Varadha leisurely devours the length of him. In a sudden flash, Varadha turns him around so that Deva’s back is pinned to his front. Deva catches a glimpse of the image in the mirror planted across from him, a pathetic whimper leaving him at the sight.

Varadha’s eyes penetrate through the reflective surface, dark, calculating, and aroused. His fingers dig into Deva’s pulse point as his other hand travels down the expanse of his torso, nails scraping against sensitive skin, eliciting a feeling so strong that Deva’s eyes flutter shut and he arches back into Varadha, desperate for a taste. The furthest he can get is the brush of his lips against the side of Varadha’s jaw before he draws back with a tut.

“Salaar,” The warmth of his breath fans against Deva’s ears, the smoky tone exhilarating him further. “My Salaar. So beautiful when you give yourself to me like this.” His hand slips further down, stopping at the bulge between Deva’s thighs. His fingers dance against the sensitive flesh, featherlight touches that have Deva working to hold back keens of frustration. That is, until Varadha palms him through the fabric of his jeans, the firm touch causing Deva to release a low moan. 

“Va–” The name catches in his throat when Varadha’s grip tightens around his neck significantly. Varadha’s lips begin to explore the curve of Deva’s nape, sharp bites that prick into his skin, only to be soothed by the gentle slip of his tongue. Varadha hums softly into him, slotting his hips against the curve of Deva’s ass and pressing into him just enough to let his arousal be felt. Slowly, the hand that is wrapped around Deva’s throat begins to descend. Within no time, Varadha works Deva out of his jeans, hands circling against the heavy length of him.

“Open your eyes and watch what I do to you.” He growls, teeth catching onto Deva’s ear. Deva’s eyes flicker open at the order and he digs his teeth into his lips at the debauched image of him in Varadha’s arms. Hair askew, pupils blown, skin marked by claiming bruises. He lowers his gaze to where Varadha’s hands are pumping him unceremoniously, his thumb circling against his slit, collecting precum and spreading it across the throbbing surface. It doesn’t take long for Varadha’s hands to become coated with the evidence of Deva’s arousal and the sight itself makes Deva tremble with need. “You look beautiful like this. Pliant in my hands, flushed beyond belief, desperate for release.” 

Deva hisses as Varadha tugs against his balls, the mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelming him enough to close his eyes for a chance of reprieve. 

“Open your eyes, Salaar. I won’t tell you again. Take your eyes off the image of what I’m doing to you and I won’t let you come for me tonight.” The warning incites panic and Deva’s lids snap open, catching the merciless grin on Varadha’s face. “Good boy.” 

The motions of his hands speed up around Deva’s cock with varying pressure and Deva is forced to watch himself break, tremors spreading across his overstimulated body. His chest heaves with panting breaths, muscles clenching in an effort to hold back his inevitable release. As he watches from tear-filled eyes, Varadha’s reflection reshapes itself in the mirror, a smug curl of his lips as it dawns on him what Deva is doing. 

“Such a good boy, holding yourself back for my sake. I didn’t even have to ask, did I? You’re just that desperate to please me.” The throaty chuckle causes Deva to flush deeper and dig his fingers into the soft material of Varadha’s clothes. 

“Please.” Deva groans, on edge. A tear rolls down the corner of his eye and satisfaction paints itself across Varadha’s features.

“Come for me, my beautiful Salaar.” A gasp leaves Deva’s lips, his cock twitching as the sticky residue splatters against the skin of his stomach. His eyes close and he leans back against Varadha, spent as his orgasm flows through his system. He can feel Varadha’s arms wrapping around his waist, lips brushing against his ears as he whispers sweet nothings while pleasure settles into his bones. 

By the time Deva is able to ground himself enough to open his eyes, he catches sight of Varadha’s gaze drilling into the seal stamped against his chest. A shudder of pleasure rocks through him when Varadha pushes him onto the bed, his hand curling around the dark mark, a wildness in the depth of his kohl rimmed eyes that has Deva hardening once more. 

“Mine.” Varadha places a searing kiss against his lips, stealing his soul from within the confines of its cage. Deva gives back just as much as he gets, wanting nothing more than to have Varadha understand that his entire life belongs to him and only him. By the time Varadha pulls away, stripping out of his shirt, Deva’s kiss-slick lips whisper back words of reassurance.

“Yours, always yours.”

#salaar #varadeva #devaratha raisaar #varadha rajamannar #salaar fic #salaar fanfic #khansar

[magicaldragons]

In an alternate universe where Deva and Varadha never meet as kids:

Dhaara is killed, and Deva and his mother are forced to go into hiding with the other Shouryaangas. Deva is raised by his tribe, and for his whole childhood, he is trained to be a leader – a killer – so that the Shouryaangas can eventually reclaim what is rightfully theirs, but it tires him, fighting for this abstract, vengeful idea.

Until one day, he meets Varadha – a quiet, graceful boy who is just as lonely and burdened as Deva, cast aside by his own family.

And Deva can't understand why. The boy is smart, and beautiful, and kind, and there's something about him that draws Deva in.

The more time they spend together, the more Deva finds himself falling in love, and as he gets to know Varadha, he feels his allegiance to the Shouryaangas and their goal start to fade.

Till the day he realizes that Varadha isn't just a Mannar, he's Rajamannar's son, and Deva must kill the royal family for his tribe, Varadha included.

Will he follow the purpose he's been headed towards for his entire life, or will fate show him an alternate path? One that leads to what his heart truly desires?

#fanfic idea #the gears are TURNING #i'm crying y'all i've already got four ongoing fic ideas #but the plot for this one is PLOTTING #salaar #varadeva

[astraswades]

this is a desperate need.

@loosukitty from the varadeva discord server.

I hope it was okay to @ you 😥

#prabhas #salaar #prithviraj sukumaran #devaratha raisaar #varadharaja mannar #varadeva #fanfic ideas #until we meet again #wsg yall its yall boy alaina back wit another banger

[fyelice]

It's not weird that I'm not obsessing over Salaar rn. I am still obssessed. It's just that I'm avoiding my obsession. So that I can give my exam without repeatedly watching the damn movie for 10 days straight.

I'm so obsessed with it. That i need to avoid the obssession.

Will again participate in active obsession once my fucking exam is over.

#salaar #varadeva i miss you #i need to write fanfics or ill choke on the feels of this

[whimsiquix]

The more I watch Salaar the more I can’t help but think this would have been better as straight up Omegaverse fanfic

#varadeva #devaratha raisaar #varadharaja mannar #salaar #give me ONE explanation for the homoerotic tension Varadha has with EVERYONE #no explanation justifies Deva’s feral behaviour

[sinistergooseberries]

SALAAR (SPOILER ALERT)

continuing my tags from a previous post (sorry 😭 @deadloverscity) : like i said, i do think salaar is a good story so far. I like the world-building, I like the tribe coalition system that becomes a background for our story, and i like the fact that varadha and deva are in a toxic yaoi relationship.

im not gonna lie tho, i just haaaate the cinematography and lighting in prashant neel's movies. it's always a bad time there. It's like slapping a vignette over every frame of the movie, and it takes away any colour whatsoever. I understand that he wants to go for a dark vibe, but trust me, dark vibes can be achieved even without making the entire movie dark and invisible. I literally cannot see the actors doing any action! It's bad! It's not enjoyable. As a typical Telugu moviegoer (and assuming the movie was made for a predominantly telugu audience), I enjoy a somewhat vibrant colour scheme. So far, in all of our movies and even the mega movies (if you have watched RRR and Baahubali) there is a lot colour and imagery going on in the movies. I think in Prashant neel's cinemas, all of this is taken away. He has a set of colours that appear in his films consistently - which are black, grey and red. This colour scheme i feel, if repeatedly used, can be a bit boring and may take away the vibrance of the story. the stark contrasts (imo) do not emphasise the story, they overshadow it. still, take this w a grain of salt.

However, considering the fact that this is just his fourth film, ill cut him some slack. But man, if he is going to make movies for a telugu audience, i hope he lets go of the vignette filter.

next, the worldbuilding. i like it - here is a country that is completely separated from india, yet dictates certain aspects of it. i like that they chose an isolated place that evolves in parallel with the mainland, but retains the values of the tribes, making this place mythical and real at the same time. i was really intrigued by the tribe lore - about how the mannars ousted the shouryangas, and how rajamannar basically went against his own father's rule-book and is now facing dire consequences from bharava, whose tribe has the right to the throne right now. i also love love love loveeeeeee the fact that deva is the rightful heir to the throne - and also also the fact that whether he knows about this or not is left ambiguous. i love how this adds another layer to amma's hatred of khansaar and OH. MY. GOD. chef's kiss i love it.

as a personal taste, i don't like violence and epic fights tm overshadowing the narrative, which i feel the movie does. however, kannada film-making might be different. idk, i havent seen many kannada films other than kantara and kgf. the former is good i absolutely love it - the story is fantastic, the fight scenes are chumma, ufff i can praise it for days. the latter is pretty meh for me.

another thing i love about the movie is.. well, varadha and deva. dude, what is up with telugu guys unintentionally making queer movies these days? what is up with that yallll??? ohmygod. when i tell you that i smelled the romance im not lying. dude. dudeee. the whole friends to enemies to (maybe) friends/lovers arc theyve got going on? oooh baby i can feel the fanfics writing themselves. the whole soaked in blood-fighting-together scene? it was a miracle i wasnt jumping up and down on my seat. the dialogue in that scene 'i have friends more handsome than you' and then varadha getting kinda jealous and shit. lovely. the whole don't touch him thing that deva has got going on - baby boy just kiss him. and man. it's beautiful tragic and im writing a fanfic.

soo yeah this is my rant about salaar. im expecting something from it lol.

#salaar

[recentinterest]

Vinaraa Prabhas Prithviraj by Ravi Basrur Sachin Basrur from Salaar 2023 https://youtu.be/HEQfwzcFlKU

I didn't expect that the official production company would edit the VINARAA video to this extent like a VARADEVA fanfic. I am lying here.

#salaar #varadeva

[siriuslykrishna]

salaar

bro i just watched salaar and the lack of varadeva fanfics pains me 😭

#varadha #salaar #deva #prabhas #varadeva

[illusions-of-serendipity]

Salaar Fanfic

So...@rambheem-is-real and @deadloverscity announced the Varadeva Love Day and I had not written in so long, so I decided it was time to upload this WIP.

Let me know how it is?

#salaar #varadha #deva #varadevaloveday #varadeva

[rambheem-is-real]

DUDE I READ THE SALAAR FANFIC AND NGL IT IS A NEED THAT CHP 2 IS UPPPPPP

both chapters have been posted on here, but chapter 2 is up on ao3 now!

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 6 - Wrought Iron

Part 5 | Part 7

The first thing that Deva notices when he starts to gain consciousness is the rhythmic clang of metal meeting metal. A part of him believes that in the state he is in, the constant clashing should be annoying and more than enough to give him a headache. If anything it feels reassuring, as if he was back in his forge in Bharuch. It starts to dawn on him just how much he’s missed his routine of grinding away in the stifling heat as he works to create intricate shapes out of metal. 

Not many people would enjoy the hassle of blacksmithing, not in a day and age where everything was automated. To this day he can hear the advice provided to him by older colleagues who urged him to leave the forge and work in the factories where work would be just a little less strenuous and the pay just slightly higher. Deva couldn’t initially pinpoint why he liked his trade enough that he refuted their advice and spent years dedicated to honing his craft despite how niche it seemed. 

With age however, come epiphanies that should have been obvious from the start. Some of his best childhood memories included his time in the forges of Khansar, where his father and him spent hours working in the grueling temperatures. Dhaara was a busy man said to have been taken under the wing of Sivamannaar for his unmatched wit and integrity. He was almost never home and Deva couldn’t remember Amma and him faulting Dhaara for not being around. Probably because even during the short periods of time he was available, he would shower them with love in the only way he knew how. 

While Amma situated herself in the back of the workspace to share with Dhaara the instances of everyday life he couldn’t participate in, Deva would stand next to his father, watching as he used his brute strength to create mesmerizing works of art that would later be displayed in their home, or in the homes of their loved ones. Once, when Deva begged his father to let him make something too, his father smiled warmly, pride shining in his eyes as he led them to the forge. He remembered just how often he messed up that day, his still developing body not used to the strain of handling such bulky tools. Yet, Dhaara patiently stood by his side, correcting any mistakes along the way. The final result of their time was a small trinket in the shape of a wonky letter D, if it could even be considered that. 

When he dropped the piece of metal into Amma’s hands later that day, she ruffled his hair telling him just how much she loved it. It wasn’t till much later, after the death of his father, that the misshapen D returned to him. His mother had taken the time to thread the pendant, along with some smaller pieces of metal from their workshop, to a leather cord and hung it around his neck when they celebrated his first birthday away from Khansar. His first birthday without his father. 

As his body begins to adjust to the sounds, he tries to pry open his eyes despite the heaviness that strains to keep them lidded. As they open, Deva observes something yellow shining through a haze of green. He blinks a few times, trying to clear the blurriness and is able to successfully deduce that he’s in a green tent facing towards a large fire. Behind it seems to be a large, looming statue that he can’t quite make out through the brightness, so he turns his gaze down towards his body and holds in a sigh of frustration when he sees the shackles binding his limbs. 

The other part of living in Bharuch he misses is not being tied down every few days. A luxury he never considered he would miss. 

“Finally, you’re awake.” Deva looks up in confusion when he hears the obvious relief pouring out of a stranger’s voice. The man standing in front of him looks vaguely familiar, though he can’t exactly place from where. His long curls are gathered into a bun that rests loose at the back of his neck, drawing attention to his striking facial features. The length of him is draped in gray fabrics that hang loosely over his torso and he is void of any distinct marks or jewelry that would explain his descent or affiliation. Despite this, there is an aura of power that radiates off of him, symbolizing the status of a leader who knows his place.

“I was worried that we had miscalculated the dose for the sedative.” He goes on to explain, pulling up a chair in front of Deva and taking a seat. “Are you doing okay? Can I get you anything? Water?”

“This might be an obvious series of questions from my side, but I’m going to go ahead and ask anyway. Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?” Deva’s eyes flick to the pitcher of water on the side table and hesitates for a second before choosing to concede. “And I’ll have that glass of water now, if the offer is still on the table.”

“Yes, of course.” The man nods, standing up to fill up the glass before handing it over to Deva. “I’m not surprised that you don’t recognize me. It’s been 25 years after all and even back then, we didn’t know each other too well. You were always with Varadha.” At the mention of his name, Deva tenses, eyes narrowing immediately as he considers the possibility of a threat. “Even now, you’re choosing to focus on him instead of the bigger picture I’m trying to provide you with. Do you remember Agira? I’m his son.” 

The blood in Deva’s system runs cold as the implication of what this means washes over him. “You can’t be. All of the Shouryangas were–”

“No, not all of us.” He gestures outside of the tent, where Deva can make out the forms of blue-covered bodies wandering around the fire. His gaze is once again drawn to the statue located directly behind the flame and all at once, the shape of it registers in his head. The wolf. Their wolf. “We survived. Our parents made sure we survived.”

“So that means that you’re–”

“Bhaarava. I go by Bhaarava now. You’ve seen me before at Velamgadi. Well… maybe you caught a glimpse.” Then he waves towards Deva’s body. “It might make me sound crazy to you, but don’t take any of this to heart. It’s all for our own safety. With everything you’ve done since stepping foot in Khansar, I figured it’d be best to take all the precautions necessary. You aren’t in harm's way though. I just want to talk.” 

“Funny. I’ve been away for so many years that I forgot the traditions of our land. I can’t believe I ever found more comfort in a regular conversation than in one where I am chained against my will.” Bhaarava doesn’t seem amused by the dry humor.

“You’re not alone anymore Devaratha. You’re people are here. We are alive despite the injustice that was inflicted upon us. We’ve spent the last decade plotting our revenge against the crown that took so much for us. We’ve changed our identities, infiltrated the government, and spent years plotting to destroy our enemies. Now is the time for us to take back what belongs to us. To burn the throne and make way for a new empire.” He leans closer, a fire burning bright in his eyes. “The Shouryanaga Empire. Join us in our battle for justice. Avenge your father and the people we have lost. Stake your claim to the throne that is your birthright.” 

Deva stares at Bhaarava, unable to move. The emotion that flows through him is too much to handle as his memories flash back to that night. He doesn’t remember much other than the fact that he was terrified. He startled awake at the sounds of shrill screams. One look out his window showcased his neighborhood encapsulated in flames and people running out in hoards only to be murdered viciously on the streets. Later, of course, there were the men. There was him trying to save his mother as best as he could, fear crushing his heart when he realized he had failed, and then there was Varadha.

Varadha who had sacrificed his birthright to save Deva and Amma. Who faced the burden of humiliation at every turn, unappreciated in a society that idolized power over kindness. Who cared for Deva enough not to come calling even in his deepest moments of despair because he wanted him to live a good and happy life. 

“No.” Deva utters, meeting Bhaarava’s gaze. To his credit, Bhaarava doesn’t look surprised. He takes a deep breath, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back.

“So you what? Promised the throne to the son of the man who murdered our people?” Deva’s skin prickles.

“You said so yourself. It was a decision made by his father, not him.”

“The throne in his hands is no better than the throne in his father’s. The Mannarsi cannot be trusted, Devaratha. The throne belongs in the hands of our people because we are the only ones who can do right by Khansar.” 

“So your solution is to put power over the kingdom in the hands of a man who hasn’t even lived within the confines of Khansar for twenty-five years?” Deva scratches at his temple. “You realize how insane that is right. The kingdom would be in better hands if Varadha ruled than I did. He’s the leader this city deserves. And since none of you bothered to ask for my opinion regarding the matter of birthright, let me clarify right now that I don’t want the throne.”

“A part of me hoped you wouldn’t do this,” Bhaarava stands wiping his hands across the fabric of his thighs. “I hoped you would realize where your loyalties should lie and that you would join us in our quest for a better, brighter future. I should’ve known though, that hope is useless in a land confined to the virtues of revenge and enmity.” 

“Where are you going?” Deva sneers as Bhaarava stands, his back facing towards him. Slowly, Bhaarava looks over his shoulder at Deva, his face painted with disapproval.

“If you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of a war. It’s time I lead my troops to battle. I trust you’ll stay here if you know what’s good for you.”

“And if I don’t?” Deva can’t help but to challenge.

“Trust me Devaratha Raisaar, you don’t want to make an enemy out of me. You have too much to lose.” With that final statement, Bhaarava swoops out of the tent and begins to call out to his troops, leaving Deva to sit by himself in the confines of a green tent. 

~*~ 

Deva’s not proud of how long it takes, but he’s finally able to break himself out of the cuffs once the camp has been cleared of everyone but two guards stationed outside his tent. 

During the span of his childhood, he’d heard the many merits of the Shauryanga tribe. Overall, of course, they were known for their strength, intelligence, and camaraderie. What they actually should have been known for, in Deva’s opinion, is their superior craftsmanship because those shackles were the first ones in Khansar that he hadn’t been able to break himself out of. No wonder why Bhaarava had left him behind with such confidence. 

He silently thanks his mother for the small pieces of metal she attached to his necklace that allowed him to pick those locks. 

As Deva carefully plots his escape, he hopes that he can get around the guards without creating a scene, but the stars must not be aligned that night because before he knows it, the guards are crumpled to the ground and are thoroughly unconscious. Deva makes out the form of a jeep parked not far away and searches the guards’ pockets, sending a prayer of thanks to Kateramma when his fingers wrap around the sharp edges of a key. 

He peels off the license plate before he hops into the car, opening the GPS to see where he’s located and how to make his way out of the remote forest. Once he has the location set, he adjusts the mirrors, catching a glimpse of the wolf statue in the background. A feeling of unease settles within him as he looks into the eyes of the creature and he has to force himself out of the stupor. 

Right now, he needs to get back to Varadha. He can worry about everything else later. 

And with that final thought, Deva zips out of the forest, making his way home.

~*~ 

Deva stands in front of the mansion in Pathran, nausea overtaking him as he tries to process the scene around him. 

It all feels too familiar. The suffocating smoke twists, turns, and fills the space around him, taking with it any illusion of freedom as it confines him to the reality of battle. Loud sirens ring in the background but with how panicked Deva is, he can’t register them as being anything more than a small nuisance. The streets are lined with the bodies of men, their blood pooling through the streets, gathering to form a sickening river that drowns everything in its path. Deva knows that the wise thing to do would be to glance at the faces of the dead men so he could gauge what exactly happened in the time he was gone. But fear grips at his throat and he worries just what he’ll find there. He worries that one of those faces could be Varadha’s, and the thought itself is enough to bring him to his knees. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes by when he tucks his face into his knees, breathing deeply and cowering in on himself, the tang of rust filling his lungs. An abrupt tap on his shoulder forces him out of his reprieve. He grabs the hand and turns sharply, fist raised in defense.

It falls to his side however, when he notices the face of Chintu standing in front of him, eyes wide with fear and full of tears. Once again, nausea overtakes him as he realizes just how horrifying this scene must be for the child, and he pulls him into an unyielding hug. Chintu cries into him, arms grasping tighter, looking for any kind of comfort. Deva doesn’t know what he can do to provide him with it. 

Finally, once his sobs have settled into low hiccups, Deva leans back and signs to him. It’s a little choppy but Chintu understands and signs back at him slowly.

I don’t know where they are. I was with Surabhi and her family. When I came back… 

It’s okay, we’ll find them. You’re safe with me.

Deva knows for certain, if nothing else, that part is true. The determination must show through on his face because Chintu nods, taking a sniff as he gathers himself. 

“Come on,” Deva says aloud, more so for himself than Chintu, leading them into the mansion. He is careful to keep the boy tucked into his side, a hand covering his eyes as a precaution and Chintu doesn’t protest. Soon, they are in Varadha’s room and it takes all of Deva’s willpower not to scream in frustration at the sight in front of him. The room is a wreck. Antique furniture that Varadha had inherited from his mother’s family is broken or damaged beyond repair. All of his belongings are scattered across the room in enough of a state of disarray that they almost distract him from the bullets lodged into the walls. 

He continues to examine the room looking desperately for any sign that would indicate Varadha was okay. That’s when he sees it. Hidden away in the corner of the room, was a wrought iron dog ornament. It was something he had made for Varadha when they were children and he was able to refine his skill enough to create something more intricate than his previous works. Not that it was amazing of course, or anything to brag about for that matter. It was just a small frame of a dog that was too heavy on one side and would keep falling over, never able to stand on its own. Deva had offered many times in the months following to take it back into the shop so that he could adjust it and gift it back. Varadha would always refuse, not willing to part with it, and saying that he liked it exactly as it was. 

It was leaning up against the wall, a small piece of paper rolled into the curve of its paw. Within seconds, Deva makes his way over, pulling out the piece and reading through it. The distress drains away immediately and Deva is filled with the comfort of knowing that everything might be okay after all.

Chintu taps at him from behind, a curious tilt to his head as he gestures at the paper. 

They’re okay. We found them.

#salaar #varadeva #devaratha raisaar #salaar fanfic #salaar fic #varadha rajamannar

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 7 - The Descent of Virabhadra

Part 6 | Part 8

“Stop. Who are you?” The guards stationed outside Mahit’s home don’t hesitate to point their guns in Deva’s direction and he maneuvers himself to stand in front of Chintu, pushing down the spark of irritation clawing its way out of his body. 

“Devaratha,” he just manages to hold back from snapping. A flicker of surprise passes through him when they flinch, dropping their guns immediately.

“We’re so sorry, sir. We didn’t recognize you.” They step back and gesture toward the stairs that lead up to the entrance. Deva nods quietly and pulls Chintu along, feeling the rush of adrenaline as he realizes just how close he is to seeing Varadha. He couldn't have been gone for long, maybe a day or two, but the separation is agonizing. It comes as a small shock to him that he wants more than to just see Varadha, but to feel him against his body, to be able to melt into him again, and never let go.

“No. No, no, no.” A commanding voice stops them in their tracks just as they take two steps into the grand foyer. In front of them stands a short woman, draped in a pink Sambalpuri sari. Despite her small demeanor, the strict set of her jaw as she glares at them in disdain is more than enough to have Deva freeze in place, his posture taking on that of a soldier awaiting orders. “They’ve just finished cleaning the entire house after hordes of men piled in hours ago. I will not have you two tracking any more blood on these floors. You there, go hose these two down in the back before helping them get settled in.” She orders the footman before turning back to look at Deva, her gaze gentler than before. “It must have been a long night. Once you freshen up, there’s some food I can serve you if you’re hungry.” 

All he can do is nod as they’re led back out. The stream of water from the hose isn’t as powerful as he expects, but the cool flow of it is pleasant against his skin in comparison to the humidity. Soon, he and Chintu are drenched from head to toe and are handed soft towels to dry off with. The footman leads them through the house, where Deva can hear distant conversation as they pass by what must be the dining room, and up the stairs. The footman opens the third door on the right and gestures for Chintu to make himself comfortable. Deva kneels down to sign, trying to keep a reassuring smile on his face.

This is our friend’s house. Freshen up and we can go downstairs for dinner. All our friends are there.

At least, he hoped all of them were. Not something he’d say to the kid considering he finally looked a little less scared than before. That’s not to say that he won’t be plagued by nightmares later on in the night, but they’d deal with that once they get there. 

“Where’s my room again?” Deva asks, pushing himself off his knees and rising to full height.

“Just this way, sir.” The footman leads him down further in the hallway. 

“Who was the woman we were talking to earlier?” Deva finds himself asking in an effort to seem more talkative. Low standards, but Bilal would be proud. Or would pick on him relentlessly. 

“Rudramma. She was initially hired as a cook, but within the next couple months, she was running the household. I don’t think the General would be able to function without her to keep his scattered brain in check.” The footman blanches visibly. “Please don’t tell him I said that. I don’t even mean it in a bad way! He’s great at his job, but the second he’s home, he’s kind of just everywhere. The attention span of a hummingbird, but a good man. Which, well you know. You’re one of his friends.” He begins to ramble, clearly flustered as he ponders the possibility of unemployment in his future. Deva finds himself genuinely amused by the interaction.

“Don’t worry, I’ve only met him a couple of days ago. He won't hear anything from me.” They share conspiratorial grins, finally coming to a stop in front of one of the rooms. 

“Well, this is it sir. Your room. The kitchen is located downstairs to the right of the stairs. My name is Anand should you need anything else.” 

Deva makes his way into the room after the exchange, closing the door and slumping against it as he processes the day. Save for one moment of utter panic, he feels like he handled everything as well as he could’ve. First and foremost, he discovered that his people aren’t extinct and are very much alive. If not slightly overcome by the need for revenge against the crown, but in their defense, who doesn’t want Raja Mannar dead. For now though, he just needs a quick shower so he can make his way downstairs and see–

“Deva? Rey, Deva?” At the sound of his voice, Deva’s body flips into autopilot. He rips open the door, taking a step into the hallway, his heart hammering in his chest. His eyes find Varadha instantly and before he knows it, he’s tackled into a hug with so much unrestrained force that he’s pushed back into his room. This time however, Varadha is in his arms.

They don’t say anything for a few moments, their harsh breath echoing through the room. Deva holds onto Varadha for dear life, pressing his cheek into Varadha’s soft hair as wetness forms in his eyes. Varadha doesn’t seem to be in any better shape as he grasps on just as tightly, a tremor shaking his frame. 

“We were going to find you,” Varadha whispers, so low that his words couldn’t be distinguished from a quick hiss of air. “I was preparing to head out when we found a lead, but that’s when Rudra attacked. I had no choice but to stay back and help, Deva. I’m sorry.” Deva laughs lightly, moving his hand up to brush through Varadha’s hair. 

“Pichaa? We both know that I can handle myself just fine. They needed you more in the moment than I did.” 

“Where were you anyway? Kampu koduthunavu ra.” 

“Rey,” Deva starts to pull away. “Yevado ethukelipothe nannu em chayamanthavu? Give me a second to shower and I’ll-”

“No. Don’t go yet.” Varadha pulls him close once again. “Who was it that got you?” 

“Bhaarava.” At the sound of his name, Varadha rears back to look at Deva sharply, fury glowing within pools of obsidian. 

“What did Radha Rama put him up to?” His eyes begin roaming down Deva’s body on high alert as he looks for signs of malice. 

“It wasn’t her. Not this time.” Deva sighs, stepping back slightly. “I’ll get into all of that, but I think I need a shower first.” Varadha drops his arms to his side, hands fisting as a flicker of uncertainty passes over his features. His eyes dart between the door and Deva before he nods.

“Yes, of course. Then I’ll just-” Deva swoops in before he can finish, palm resting against Varadha’s cheek and pressing their lips together in a gentle, yet firm, kiss. 

“Wait for me? Right here?” He requests, pressing his forehead against Varadha’s. 

“Yeah, okay.” Varadha smiles shyly at him. The gesture is enough to set off fireworks in Deva’s heart. 

~*~ 

“I had Anand bring your meal up here.” Varadha says the moment Deva steps out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel.  

“And Chintu?”

“Baba’s with him right now. He’ll be able to hold up till tomorrow, at least.” 

Now that Deva has time to really look at him, he notices the casual way Varadha is dressed. The fabrics wrapped around him are rather thin, working to fight against the humidity of the day and keep him cool. His jewelry is stacked on the dresser in a heaping pile and his face is void of the usual khol and tilakam that he wears during the day. Varadha looks so normal to Deva, all his defenses lowered as he sets aside a glass filled with bourbon. 

He reaches out an arm, gazing fondly at Deva. Within seconds, the towel is thrown across the back of a chair and Deva is planted on Varadha’s lap, pulling him in for a searing kiss. Varadha laughs, a tinge of surprise and joy, and gives back as eagerly as he gets.

“I know you’re hungry, but there’s also food that you can dig into, you know?” 

“For the life of me, I can’t imagine that anything can taste better than this.” Deva emphasizes with small pecks, lips meeting with teeth at some point when Varadha’s smile turns into a full blown grin. 

“You’re such an idiot.” Varadha grasps his chin, pulling him in for a deeper kiss once more. “But come on, you need food and Rudramma’s shouldn’t be missed at any cost.” 

“She really has you wrapped around her fingers doesn’t she? First the coffee, now the food. If this doesn’t meet the hype, I’m going to start questioning your taste.” Deva pulls himself reluctantly off of Varadha and grabs the plate. He knows instantly when the smell hits him that he’s in for a treat. 

“I told her you liked your food on the spicier side, I guess she accommodated?” Varadha teases as Deva digs in, refusing to leave a grain behind. 

“Oh god, I think we have to steal her from Mahit. Satti oka level aithe, eema unko level, anthe!” Deva sighs happily as he finishes eating and goes to wash his hands, leaving the plate on the desk before coming back to join Varadha on the bed. 

“Sare kani, ippudu chepara.” Varadha takes Deva’s hand from across the bed. “What happened, Deva?”

“Bhaarava is a Shouryanaga.” Varadha’s hand tightens painfully around his own and it’s a reaction he expects. “He’s not the only one that survived. Their parents saved them that night and they’ve been laying low for years as they grew their network.” 

“Deva, this is great!” His posture animates visibly, as if the burden of his father’s actions have lifted off his shoulders, like he could finally forgive himself just a little. The optimism evident on Varadha’s face makes it difficult for Deva to continue. He almost doesn’t want to because maybe, just maybe, he could handle this problem on his own. 

Varadha had spent so much of his life feeling accountable for the actions of his father and atoned for the sins in his own way by living a life less than he deserved. He faced humiliations for years and years, never uttering a word on his behalf, and taking the insults with the unyielding strength of a mountain. There was no reason to add more to Varadha’s plate than was necessary. Not when he was already responsible for the lives of his family and soldiers. If there is anything he can do for Varadha, it is to protect him from his instinctual ability to save and shield. 

The enemy of the Shouryanga’s was Raja Mannar, not Varadha. There wasn’t any palpable threat at the moment that he had to warn him about. Right?

“Yeah, yeah it is!” he swallows with difficulty and plasters on a smile that he hopes is reassuring. “He just wanted to make sure I knew and with how tense the atmosphere in the city is, he thought this was the only way to get to me without risking their cover.” 

“So, what does this mean? What do they want with you?”

“I have no idea if I’m being honest.” Liar. Liar. Liar. “I don’t even know how to process this. I think I just need some time?” At that, Varadha lifts their intertwined fingers and presses a kiss into the inside of Deva’s wrist. 

“Would talking about this at a later time be better for you?” He whispers, concerned.

“Yes, please.” Deva’s shoulders slump at that, making evident to him just how much tension he was carrying. “What happened while I was gone? Are you all okay?” Varadha looks away for a split second, trying to come to a decision.

“Promise not to panic, okay?” Which is the wrong thing to say because Deva is immediately on edge, but he waits patiently as Varadha pulls his arm away. A sharp hiss leaves his lips when he lifts his arms above his head, limbs moving in crisp motions to shrug out of his kurta. Deva’s gaze narrows in on the bandage wrapped around Varadha’s left shoulder, his teeth grinding against each other as red clouds his vision. 

“Is that–”

“My first ever gunshot wound,” Varadha rolls his eyes, picking up his glass of bourbon again to take a large gulp. “I’m currently high on painkillers and alcohol, which might be counter productive in the long run, but feels quite effective right now.” He grins broadly at that, the look in eyes probing for Deva to find this all as amusing as he does.

Deva, however, can feel rage overtake his body, physically manifesting in the tremor of his fingers. Thunder roars in his ears as he considers just how close the bullet was from touching his heart. A couple inches lower and Varadha wouldn’t be sitting in front of him right now, glowing gold among the dim lights, full of life. 

“Stop it,” Varadha’s lips turn down in disapproval as he takes in Deva’s stormy look. “I’m okay and everyone else is too. Baachi, Baba, Bilal, and Rhinda at least.  Some of our men didn’t make it, but mostly everyone has and Mahit is letting us keep our heads low here until it’s safe enough to move to the bunker.” He sighs, moving Deva’s arms up as he settles his head into his lap. “We can worry about everything later, but it’s been such a long night Deva. Just stay with me?” 

Deva works to control his fury, swallowing down the dryness in his mouth as he nods. He runs his fingers through Varadha’s hair and places a kiss on his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

~*~

“Anna! Anna!” Varadha startles awake at the sound of Baachi’s voice, grimacing at the sharp pain that shoots from his shoulder. 

“What?” He grumbles, voice rough with sleep as he rises to his feet and makes his way towards Baachi when he sees the wide-eyed, urgent expression. 

“Nee Salaar em chesado choodu!” Varadha’s head whips to the bed then, stomach dropping when he notices Deva’s absence. He takes off instinctively, pushing past his younger brother as he races through the mansion. The sound of celebratory cheers reach his ear immediately and he makes his way into Mahit’s garden only to catch sight of a large crowd standing in a circular formation, blocking his view. His legs start to slow down as he waits at the edge of the circle, a vision of Deva chopping off Naarang’s head flashing before his eyes for a split second before his attention comes back to the sight in front of him.

“Come on Anna,” Baachi grabs his hand, pushing through the crowd. Many of the men start to complain till they catch a glimpse of Varadha and step back enough to give him room. The gradual parting of the group allows for them to get to the front of the circle sooner than later, and Varadha’s breath catches at the image in front of him, yet he isn’t shocked. 

Deva is situated at the center of the circle, drenched in blood. He is stark-still, a regal aura to him as he keeps his gaze to the ground, allowing for two henchmen to pour buckets of water over his head. The powerful flow follows the sculpted build of his body, taking the blood with it in a path from the roots of his midnight hair, to the broad curves of his shoulders, and down the span of his long legs before pooling on the ground, forming thin streams of liquid that reach out like veins toward the beginnings of the inner circle. 

“I’ve heard the tales of his feats from many of my friends,” Varadha hears Rudramma speak from next to him. “I didn’t think there was any credibility to them initially. Just stories exaggerated during wartime when people need something to believe in. Even when he came in last night, he looked so innocent that I couldn’t fathom that this was the man who was shaking up Khansar by name alone. Now though– he doesn’t look like a human to me. Nor to anyone here, I presume. It’s as if Virabhadra himself has descended to this land.” 

Varadha couldn’t respond, fixated on the form in front of him. 

“The guards told us he left the mansion in the early hours of morning,” Baachi starts, voice rising to be heard above the squall. “Then he came back like this a couple of minutes ago. They’re saying he killed Rudra and Om, after taking on fifty of their men single handedly. I can’t believe I ever doubted your Salaar, Anna. I should’ve trusted your judgment. It’s not a mistake I’ll ever make again.” 

As if sensing his presence, Deva’s gaze snaps up to him, observing through long lashes and void of any expression. Varadha’s heart tugs uneasily. A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of his thoughts.

“I’m not sure what triggered him enough to launch an attack without informing us.” Mahit mutters, standing close with a grim expression, no part of him reflecting the excitement of the group. “We’re lucky he’s on our side, but now we have to fight to keep him here because if for any reason he chooses to go against us, we’ll lose everything we’ve dreamed of. He’s a weapon Varadha, a powerful one that we can’t afford to let slip from your grasp.” 

Deva’s eyes flicker to the hand resting on Varadha’s shoulder for a singular moment before dropping back to the floor. The water crashes over him forcefully, like a tide pounding against rocky shores. Though the dark red washes away, the stain of it tinges Deva’s dusky skin like a blemish. 

Varadha can only watch.

#salaar #varadeva #devaratha raisaar #salaar fic #salaar fanfic #varadha rajamannar

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 1 - Man of the Hour

Part 2

Varadha’s gaze sweeps across the room, weariness settling in as he takes in the euphoric crowd surrounding him. The throbbing music, animated cheers, and unbridled laughter provide a stark contrast from the usual silence that encompasses Pathran most nights.

“Bored already?” Bilal asks, taking a seat next to him, drink in hand. Varadha chuckles quietly as he reaches out to grab the bottle before taking a quick swig.

“The things I do for my brother. Sometimes I wonder what goes through his head when he asks for things like this.” Varadha waves his hand vaguely at the scene in front of him, handing the drink back to Bilal.

“In this case? Probably the same thing that’s been running through all of our heads. After all these years, we might finally have a chance.” Both their gazes move immediately at the remark, going to rest on the tall frame of the man responsible for the celebrations at hand.

Deva stands out on the balcony, hands tucked into his pockets as he leans awkwardly away from the man talking to him. For a moment, he looks nothing like the hunter feared by Khansar and its royals. Instead, he seems like the lost little boy he met for the first time at his Grandfather’s house during a State Dinner.

He remembers how hesitant Deva was when he first approached him in that room full of political leaders, not knowing what to do with his body as he shuffled in place. That among all else might’ve been what caused Varadha to feel at ease around him in a way he’d never experienced before in anyone’s presence. His entire childhood up until that point consisted of being shunned by his step siblings despite his best efforts to belong. Deva, however, possessed none of the harsh body language that belonged to his own family. His back didn’t immediately straighten, his eyes didn’t narrow, and his mouth didn’t turn in disgust. Instead, he haunched in on himself, eyes sparkling with curiosity, a slight quirk to his lips as he watched Varadha advance towards him.

While Varadha took the first steps in establishing a new friendship that day, Deva listened on with intent, all his attention focused devoutly on the small boy who couldn’t remember ever being on the receiving end of such kindness. From that moment, Deva embedded himself deep into the core of Varadha’s world, so much so that in his absence, Varadha would feel as if the earth was shattering. Then Deva would come back, following Varadha as a shadow throughout the kingdom of Khansar, and suddenly he would be whole again. Complete.

If there’s anything he’s thankful for, it’s the presence of that boy who followed him blindly through his childhood to this very moment, where the tides of time were changing, and a new history was being written.

“There’s something about him,” Varadha murmurs in awe, taking in the unruly hair and charcoal eyes of his closest friend. 

“Yeah there is,” Bilal chuckles in amusement, settling back in his chair as he takes a long sip. “No wonder why Mahit is trying to stake claim, not that he’s the only one trying of course, but he seems to be the only one persuasive enough to succeed.”

“What?” Varadha jolts slightly in confusion, his brows coming together as he looks to Bilal.

“You can’t tell me you’re surprised?” Bilal arches a brow incredulously. “Your friend, Dora, is the man of the hour. Powerful and handsome? He doesn’t stand a chance against this crowd, definitely not against Mahit.”

Varadha stills, a heaviness settling deep within him as he moves his gaze back to where Deva stands, unable to comprehend how he didn’t notice before. Mahit stands close to Deva, thick hair flowing freely in the breeze as he rests his body against the railing and trails a hand playfully across Deva’s bicep. His dark blue kurta is taught against his torso, emphasizing the strong muscles he’s developed over the years working in Khansar’s military. His hazel eyes sparkle in delight as he trails them shamelessly across Deva’s features, a bright smile on his lips as he converses with the ease of a man who is used to getting what he wants.

Varadha doesn’t know when it happens, but suddenly he finds himself covering the distance between him and the two men, long legs carrying him towards the balcony.

“Rey, Deva.” At the sound of his voice, Deva stands taller, eyes snapping up in attention. Varadha strides closer to him, stopping only when they stand shoulder to shoulder. “What are you doing out in this cold anyway? Come inside, everyone’s waiting for you.”

“Spending time with me I should think,” Mahit drawls as if obliging the whims of an unwelcome distraction. “As for the cold, well there’s certainly better ways to warm up than heading back into that party. Don’t you think Deva?”

“I don’t…” Deva trails, his gravelly voice breaking the moment of tense silence that surrounded them for a second. His dark gaze flickers to meet Varadha’s, reluctant and unsure, searching for a way out. The epiphany comes at him like a breath of fresh air, and suddenly, all of the restlessness and unease in Varadha’s body drains away.

Deva is not interested in Mahit.

“Leave him alone Mahit. He’s not interested.” Varadha mutters, his hand wrapping around Deva’s arm, ready to pull him away.

“You never cease to surprise me Dora. You’ve shared so much with me over the years, secrets and lovers both– yet this is where you draw the line?” Mahit questions, an amused lit to his tone. Deva halts at the revelation, his body a glacier, pulling Varadha back from his retreat.

“What? You two-?” Deva’s eyes bore into Varadha’s, lips pressed into a straight line as his brow furrows.

“It was a long time ago,” Varadha finds himself saying. Not that he’s sure why he sounds so defensive all of a sudden.

“Not that long ago from what I recall,” Mahit replies dryly and Varadha shifts awkwardly in place, catching the flash of hurt behind the cool facade. “Anyway, it seems like my night is a bust. Might as well let you two have some fun in my stead.” Mahit walks back towards the door, shoulder jutting against Varadha’s. “Take care Dora. I look forward to seeing you next.”

The two men watch as he disappears into the crowd, an uncomfortable silence settling into the space between them.

“So you and him are…?” Deva breathes.

“Something.”

“But he still tried to make a move on–”

“You. Yep.” Deva chuckles quietly, looking at his feet and tucking his hands back into his pockets.

“I missed a lot these past couple of years, didn’t I?” Varadha couldn’t help but to laugh at that, feeling at ease once more as he turns to look at his friend, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah you did. But, if we go home right now, maybe we can get plastered and catch up on everything we’ve missed.”

Deva’s eyes twinkle and soften when they move back to Varadha. “I think I’d like that, spending time with you after all these years. And getting away from this party would be a blessing! I have no idea why Baachi was so insistent on us coming if he was just going to hole away in a corner with his girlfriend.”

Varadha rolls his eyes at that, shaking his head slightly as he follows Deva through the crowd and away from the party. “If I had any clue as to why he did anything he does, I’d probably be a lot less anxious in my daily life.”

“I’m back now, so not for nothing, but you have someone to share your grievances with.” Though Varadha hears the playful undertone to the magnanimous statement, he feels a sense of relief overtake him.

He’s spent so many years alone, breaking his back to protect his family while trying to find ways to safeguard the small world he’s created for himself. He’s learned to let go of his dreams, to focus on being small and taking what he is given. Doing what he has to for survival and nothing more. But now, with Deva back, the hope that he never realized left him, is back in full force. For the first time in his life, Varadha feels as if he can go beyond survival. That he could choose to live.

No matter how the rest of the journey pans out– whether they win this war or not, Varadha knows that all he needs is Deva at his side and together, they can accomplish anything. Him and his Salaar.

~*~

Just a little fic I’ve written up since I want to contribute to the fandom. I’ve definitely never written anything before so all of this is a huge work in progress. But it’s been a lot of fun and I can’t wait to keep doing it cuz this ship is kinda awesome.

~*~

#varadeva #salaar #salaar fic #devaratha raisaar #salaar fanfic #varadha rajamannar

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 2 - In the Silence of Night

Part 1 | Part 3

“I met him at a party my father hosted for Radha Rama’s birthday. I must’ve been fifteen or sixteen at the time.” Varadha stares straight ahead through the window, his body settled on the ground, leaning against the bed with an arm thrown across casually, swiveling his drink in hand. Deva observes him from behind, laying atop the bed, body stretched out and propped up on one arm.

“I was bored Deva and lonely too. I had been for years at that point if I’m being honest with myself and you know how my step siblings are. Mahit was different though. He was never a follower, never succumbed to Rudra’s will. He always did what he wanted and what he thought was right. So he came up to me, started a conversation, snuck us out of Kotagada, and we spent the rest of the night driving around the city. No one noticed us, and if they did, they didn’t care enough to bother us. I think that was the first night I felt like myself again, after you’d left.”

Deva’s heart clenches at the humorless pull of Varadha’s lips. His first instinct is to apologize for ever leaving him, for making him feel as if he was alone. He wanted nothing more to tell him how he felt the same in Varadha’s absence, where true happiness was nothing more than a distant memory. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Not yet, not when Varadha’s voice trailed off into a hum that meant he had something more to say.

“We were just friends at first and he was just so different from everyone else in my life that it felt easy to confess to him any doubts and insecurities. It felt easy to tell him about what brought me joy and happiness. Somehow what we felt for each other became more and well…” Varadha trails off, his head turning slightly up towards Deva, teeth digging into his lower lip. “That was all for a short time though. He enlisted in the military and I had my own duties to attend. We hadn’t seen each other for years till he got promoted a couple of years ago and was stationed in the city. By that point, we’d outgrown whatever friendship we had, but he’s him and I’m me. Which is to say that everything since then has been casual. He has no claim to me, nor I to him.”

“Hmm,” Deva grunts as Varadha places his drink on the floor and turns his body to face him, crossing his arms on the frame of the bed and resting his chin on top. He tilts his head slightly, making direct eye contact with Deva, a haze settling in as the alcohol flows through his system.

“That’s all it is now. Casual. Even then it’s been months since I hooked up with him.” Varadha stresses once more, as if he needs to somehow make it absolutely clear to Deva that there is nothing between him and Mahit. Then, softly, his voice starts again. “What about you? You said earlier that you have girlfriends from back home. I didn’t drag you away from anyone special, did I?”

“No, no you didn’t.” Deva’s voice comes out in a hushed tone and he gestures to Varadha to refill his glass with the rich bourbon. “The last girlfriend I had was from a decade ago, not that it amounted to much. She wanted to get married but there was no point to that. My life is tied to Khansar and I don’t think I would have ever wanted to bring her here. She wouldn’t have liked it.”

“Oh,” Varadha looks away, gripping the bottle and taking a gulp without bothering to fill his own glass. “Do you regret it? Leaving her behind?”

“Maybe I should, but I don’t. She was a good woman, she deserved to have someone better than me. Someone who was capable of loving her the way she loved them.” He found himself admitting.

“You didn’t love her?”

“I think she was just a place holder at that point in my life.” Deva sucks in a breath, suddenly nervous as he debates whether to continue or not. “Ever since Amma and I left, I’ve been waiting for you to call me back. I don’t think any moment since then has felt real to me, it was just some haze I was living through till I was needed again.”

A heaviness settles in the room as Deva shifts his position, sitting cross-legged on the bed. For a moment, the only sounds that could be heard were the chatter from the night market below. If he listened closely, Deva could hear the high pitched voice of a woman bartering with a vendor, a man laughing wholeheartedly at a joke his friends must have made, and of course the vehicles that honked periodically as if trying to drown out the voices of humanity. The room however, stays silent for a while longer.

“I’m sorry,” Varadha starts and Deva looks down at his friend in confusion. Varadha tilts his head back up to Deva, allowing their eyes to meet once more. He takes a deep breath, the movement drawing Deva’s attention towards the thick necklaces adorning Varadha’s neck and catches the slightest glimpse of the scar behind his ear. He resists the sudden urge to run his finger across it.

“What?”

“I wasn’t lying before in the cell– if you were anywhere else but here, you would’ve been okay. It’s because of me you had to give up so much in life.” Varadha’s gaze snaps to the electrical scar that runs up Deva’s arm. Slowly he reaches out, a rushed breath of air passing from his lips as he turns Deva’s hands over. His thumb brushes lightly against the raised skin, his shoulders slumping.

“Rey, mentala neeku?”

“You can’t pretend it’s not true Deva,” Varadha scoffs. “This scar? It’s proof of just how much you’ve done for me. Whatever the conflict was, it was between Rudra and I. I shouldn’t have come to you for help. You could’ve died that day, and all for what? Some grudge he had against me?”

“Varadha-“

“Not to mention that my father is the reason why you’ve lost your family, your people, the reason why you had to leave this city. I couldn’t do anything but watch. I should’ve known better, I should’ve done something to help you-”

“Rey-”

“And worse? I find out today that after all these years, you’ve been putting your life on hold, waiting to fulfill some promise you’ve made to me all those nights ago. That you’ll come when I call. You deserve better Deva. You deserve to not have me holding you back at every turn and that’s exactly why I didn’t call you back all these years. You’ve lost so much because of me and I… I can’t be this selfish.”

Deva’s breath catches in his chest and he slides down immediately, seating himself on the floor besides Varadha, their bodies closer than before. Varadha’s thumb doesn’t stop its exploration of Deva’s scar and Deva can’t bring himself to take his arm back either.

“You’re officially drunk, because that’s not how I remember any of this happening.” Deva whispers, afraid anything louder would agitate Varadha. Except he doesn’t pull away like Deva expected, chuckling lightly instead as he leans in closer to Deva.

“No, tipsy maybe. Definitely not drunk. And in my senses enough to realize this needs to be said. In my senses enough to know that I need to stop making decisions for you and let you make them on your own.

“When the rest of Khansar was gathering its forces, I didn’t know what to do. Baachi, Baba, Bilal… everyone was looking to me for guidance and all I wanted to do was run away. All I wanted was to not have to deal with this insanity anymore– and I should’ve been strategic. I should’ve made alliances and brought in armies enough to protect me and mine. But I was selfish. It didn’t matter to me anymore if we won or lost. I was tired of the burden, tired of facing all of this alone.

“Ever since you left, I’ve wanted you next to me but was too ashamed to ask after everything you had given up because of me. I shouldn’t have come back to ask you for more, but I missed you so much. Whether we survived or not, all I could think was that I needed you back at my side. Now there’s a bounty on your back, all for what? You do too much for me Deva. You always have. I don’t deserve this– I don’t deserve you.”

“Done with your nonsense yet?” Deva covers Varadha’s hand with his own, head shaking in disbelief.

“Everything I’ve done for you, I’ve done because I wanted to. I know I’ve been away for twenty-five years, but the time, the distance? It hasn’t changed my reverence for you.” Deva takes a deep breath, feeling the shift in the atmosphere as he prepares to continue. His gaze falls once more to the scar behind Varadha’s ear and he swallows hard before lifting his hand slowly, a slight shake in his fingers. Finally, his finger comes to rest against Varadha’s warm skin, and Deva’s body relaxes when he doesn’t pull away from the touch.

“Reverence? Really? Your ex turned you into a poet?” Varadha tries to sound confident, he really does. But Deva knows him well enough to sense the slight hint of apprehension.

“I didn’t make that promise to come back when you needed me because I felt indebted to you for what you did. I made the promise because having to be without you for even a second scared me. I was worried if I didn’t say anything then, you would’ve forgotten me and that I would’ve never seen you again. I was selfish too. I was selfish that night and I was selfish all the days following when I wanted nothing more than to return to you.

“Everything I faced between the night Amma and I left and when you came to Bharuch was a placeholder, not because my loyalty to you was a burden, but because it was–” Deva stops suddenly when Varadha’s hand wraps around his wrist, grip tightening.

“Deva,” Their eyes meet once more and Deva is taken aback by the emotion in his eyes. An explosion of guilt, fear, hope, and so much more that he couldn’t name even if he wanted to. Deva moves his palm away from Varadha’s face, wrapping his fingers around Varadha’s, and bringing their intertwined hands to his chest.“I need you to understand that I’m here because I want to be, because there’s no other place that I would rather be. And before all of this, you said that you didn’t deserve me? That is a load of bullshit because Varadha Rajamannar,” He emphasizes, “Naa meedha intha hakku unadhi nee okadike, ra. I am yours, whether you want me to be or not.”

#varadeva #salaar fanfic #salaar #salaar fic #devaratha raisaar #varadha rajamannar

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 8 - Dawn of a New Empire

Part 7 | Part 9

Note: Slight NSFW I think?

If Varadha was being honest with himself, he didn’t really know how they’d gotten to this point. The last vivid memory he had was of Deva being worshiped like a god in Mahit’s garden. Then the space cleared, leaving him and Deva behind as silence surrounded them like a blanket, unable to voice the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. The stillness continued to unfurl, shrinking and expanding in its journey, till finally they found themselves navigating an unexpected terrain, together yet alone. 

Then came the days of battle, where they had gained and lost so much in the span of so little time. There were many moments of glory that brought the men together in celebration and fewer moments of loss. Those are what stood out the most at the end of it all, where soldiers mourned for their fallen comrades, their will to fight vanishing just as fast as it would reappear when the unquenchable desire for vengeance was reignited by Varadha’s rousing speeches. 

Through many of those moments, Deva was physically next to Varadha, refusing to let any harm come his way. Yet, there was a fragile distance between them that he wasn’t able to give name to. Maybe he could’ve if he tried hard enough, but it scared him beyond measure to even consider it. Not when it had been days since they’ve felt each other… since they’ve held each other. 

So, their army continued to fight. Varadha and Deva continued to stay at a loss for words.

Now they are here, in his father’s throne room: Deva holding his sword to Raja Mannar’s neck. 

Varadha considers if he should be feeling more anger after their earlier interaction where his father expressed his disdain towards Varadha, how he regretted having him as a son, how he was a shame to the Mannar clan. Even now, Varadha knows he should be irritated as Raja Mannar refuses to dignify his presence by keeping his gaze firmly on the fuming outline of Radha Rama, his pride and joy, who stands by the entrance of the hall, unable to act. But at the moment, he feels nothing. So he gives the order and his father’s head rolls to a stop at his feet.

A few days later, the scene would appear in his sleep. He would startle awake and cry as regret consumed him. He would wish that he could somehow rewrite the past. He would wish he could’ve stopped his father from killing the Shouryanagas and that he could’ve preserved the loving relationship they had during the first ten years of his life. 

That was to come in a few days' time. 

Then it would continue to haunt him for the rest of his life.

For now, Deva removes the large bracelet from Raja Mannar’s arm and throws the husk of his father’s body across the room. Varadha doesn’t look, but he hears the corpse thud loudly against the wall. Deva steps to the side, gesturing for Varadha to take a seat on the throne marred by blood. He tries not to think too hard about the squishing sound that envelops him as he takes a seat… or about the barbaric scene in front of him, where so few people were alive to witness this hoax of a coronation. 

“All hail to Khansar’s rightful heir!” Deva’s voice booms through the room as he holds up the thick bracelet. “Your Kartha– Varadha Rajamannar!” 

Varadha hears shouts of joy from his soldiers and friends as they go down to their knees. The only emotion he feels in that moment is relief when he sees that his family is okay, bowing towards him with large smiles on their faces. Then his hand is lifted from its position on the throne and Deva slips the heavy band on his arm. Their gazes catch for a moment, grasping on with steadfast determination, forcing time to stand still. Varadha isn’t sure what Deva sees in him though, because within seconds, he’s also kneeling by the foot of the throne.

The only person who remains standing is Radha Rama, pure hatred oozing from her striking eyes, clouding the room in a dark fog that jostles Varadha to his core. He knows at that moment that he should let his guard execute her. That it would be the only way to quell the tempest that would approach in his future. Except, he’s sickened by the massacre and tired of how alone he feels in a position he firmly believed he wanted just a few days ago. 

So, he continues to stare at her, unfeeling and uncaring as he waits for the inevitable consequences that will follow.

~*~

He doesn’t know how it happens, but within the next few days, the palace is cleaned up so well that there isn’t a trace of blood to be found. Even the streets are spotless, soon filling with the chatter of people milling about in their daily lives, the gore of turmoil forgotten easily. The change in atmosphere is enough to give Varadha whiplash, but there’s no time to ponder it for too long.

Preparations are made promptly for his official coronation. Amidst that and all the meetings with delegates to figure out the logistics of his court and new policy implementations, Varadha doesn’t have time to breathe, much less relax. Even the evenings, where he should technically be free, are spent holed up in a room with Baba and Mahit as they draw up plans for the future of Khansar. 

When he does have time to let his thoughts wander, he thinks about Deva. Deva who he hasn’t seen or talked to in weeks. Not properly anyway. They would see each other during certain weekly meetings, where they would be situated on two different ends of the room, speaking no more to each other than was necessary. Then, Varadha would leave with his team to handle his duties as Kartha, and Deva with his own team to handle matters of national security. 

With how much their army and people admired him, it was a no-brainer to appoint Deva as the Commander in Chief. At least it was to Varadha. The look of disapproval on Mahit’s face made it obvious he believed otherwise. He later approached Varadha telling him it was a bad idea to let Deva hold so much power over the whole of Khansar. His opinions on that particular matter were never brought up again after Varadha’s angry rebuke. 

Finally, a few days after his coronation, Varadha catches sight of Deva wandering in the palace gardens and gives up on maintaining any semblance of aloofness. He pulls on a thin, black robe and makes his way through the wing, a single destination in mind. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?” Varadha believed the question would come out sounding a lot harsher and a lot more annoyed than it did. He just sounds tired.

“You’ve been the one keeping me at a distance for weeks now,” Deva doesn’t even seem surprised by Varadha’s appearance, turning to face him slowly. “So maybe I should be asking you.” 

“I haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It’s the first time Deva has ever spoken to Varadha harshly, and it’s enough to stop him in his tracks when he hears bitterness layered beneath the word. “Don’t lie to me. You haven’t talked to me or looked at me the same way since that morning.” He runs his hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. “I was hoping we could fix it, but you gave me nothing. What was the point of trying after it became obvious that what we had was over? You made it obvious that it was time to move on.” 

“Over?” Varadha flinches harshly beneath the moonlight, the pleasant breeze suddenly unbearable against his skin. Deva doesn’t say anything, staring blankly at Varadha and it infuriates him that he can’t read the thoughts running behind those charcoal eyes. 

Still, the phrase is enough for a sudden barrage of memories to dance across Varadha’s vision. Every moment since that morning, seen in a different light than before. 

Nausea begins to set when he thinks vividly of his coronation ball. It was nothing more than an event Baachi insisted he throw to celebrate their victory and build his network within the inner circles of Khansar. Yet, every time he would jump from conversation to conversation, he would catch a glimpse of Deva sitting in the furthest corner of the room. At first, he was alone more often than not, a relaxed set to his shoulders that signified to Varadha that he was happy not being bothered. 

Then, at some point of the night, there was someone else. They were draped elegantly in a smokey, silver sari, thick hair plaited together in a braid that dropped over their shoulder, a bright red rose tucked into the top. They were introduced to him at some point as Ila, a journalist there to cover the event. Varadha didn’t think much of it then, mind filled with a checklist of duties to complete. But now, he remembered the way the two of them sat together the entire night. The way that Ila waited with Deva till the very end of the party, following him out the door… 

“Moving on as in, you’ve been seeing someone else?” Varadha whispers into the darkness. Deva’s brows pull together. 

“What?” 

“That journalist from the party? Ila.” Varadha can’t control the sharp edge to his voice, his eyes narrowing accusingly in Deva’s direction. “Or if not them, other people? Is that what you’re telling me?” 

“That’s not what–” Deva suddenly sucks in a sharp breath. “Hilarious coming from you when you’ve been attached to Mahit’s hip for weeks now. What right do you have to be mad at me?” 

“Stop it,” Varadha takes a step forward, hands fisting at his sides. “I would never do that. I would never insult what we have by moving on the second there’s a bump in the road. I wouldn’t do that to you because I’m not capable of forgetting you as easily as you did me!” 

They glare at each other, bodies wound tight with frustration as the sounds of night surround them. From far away, an owl hoots into the night, its melodious cry carrying gently in the breeze. Every so often, bats pass overhead, the strong beat of their wings echoing in waves around them. As the crickets chirp, uncaring for the plight of humanity, the fresh, green smell of the garden inhabits the space between them, imploring them to break their silence and join the conversations of night.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” Deva starts, hands tucking into his pockets. “It would kill me, but I wouldn’t stop you from being with someone you deserve. Not when I’ve been a monster… and I don’t regret it for a second, Varadha. When I found out Rudra was the reason you got hurt, I couldn't think beyond that. I told you before and I’ll tell you again– no one is allowed to touch you, to harm you. If they try, they won’t make it a step past me. They both had to die that day.

“Then you came down that morning, and you didn’t know how to react. You didn’t know what to do. I never meant to put you in a position where you couldn't recognize who I was. Where you were scared of me. And I tried, I tried to come talk to you… but you looked at me differently than before and it broke me. I thought it’d be best to give you space, to let you approach me.” Deva shrugs. “You don’t owe me anything Varadha. I have no right to be mad. Regardless, I’m still on your side, I always will be. In whatever capacity you want me.” 

The words ring strongly just as they did that first night between them. It takes all of Varadha’s strength not to drop to the ground. Instead he moves closer to Deva, coming to stand chest to chest, his hand gripping the arm with the tattoo. 

“What made you think I was scared of you?” The incredulity rings strong. “I was taken aback because it’s always been too much for me Deva. Every time I start to believe I know who you are, that I know what your limits are, you do something I never could’ve expected. Every moment from the electrical shock, to Naarang’s head, to Rudra’s death… you go so far for me, and I can’t even begin to fathom why.” 

“You know why.” Deva turns his face up to the sky, begging for strength. “There’s no one else for me but you, Varadha. Your name is carved into every inch of my being.” He brings his hand up to Varadha’s neck, pulling him so close that their bodies finally align, slotting together perfectly. “You are my sun and I am your shadow… I simply don’t exist without you, ra.”

“Deva, I–” Varadha gives in, finally understanding the extent of Deva’s devotion, and reaches up to press their lips together. The feeling of being able to do so after so many days makes his knees quake and within seconds, Deva’s arms are wrapped around his waist, supporting him. “I love you.” He allows himself to say it, to voice the emotion that has consumed him since he was a child. 

Deva’s grip around him turns to vice, a strangled sound leaving his lips as he really looks at Varadha. Then he’s back to where he was before, devouring the taste of Varadha in the cold of night. He refuses to break, hands moving across the planes of Varadha’s body, re-exploring the length of him in fervor, and attempting to melt into him. By the time Deva pulls away, his thumb rubbing gently against his pulse point, Varadha’s pleasantly light headed, choosing to support himself by grabbing onto Deva’s bulging biceps. 

“I love you too, Varadha. So damn much…” 

~*~ 

“There’s a swing in your step today.” Mahit raises a brow at Varadha when he steps out onto the balcony for their meeting.

“What?” Varadha questions, blinking at the man through his sunglasses. “No there isn’t.”

“Mhm, could’ve fooled me.” Mahit doesn’t push him too much though, nodding at the seat across from him. “Anyway, I was going through the Nibandana and am worried that some of these regulations clash against a few of the laws we’re trying to implement. I wanted to discuss a couple of thoughts and concerns I had with you before my meeting with Krishnakanth and the legal team.” 

They spend the next hour diligently looking over any and all issues, cross referencing them with the pages of notes they had taken down, before putting together a file of information for Mahit’s meeting with the legal team. Anand approaches right on time, bringing with him a tray of coffee that Varadha downs all too happily.

“Okay come on, now that we’re done with this, what’s with the sudden burst of energy?” Mahit’s lips quirk up into a teasing grin.

“Is it a crime to be happy, Mahi?” Varadha shrugs, looking away as he feels himself flushing lightly. 

“No, not at all. Not when you look like this.” His eyes sweep up and down Varadha’s form approvingly. 

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Varadha rolls his eyes and sits up a little, fixing his posture to be less casual.

“Fine, your wish. But I hope you know I’m just telling it how it is. Happiness is a good look on you.” Mahit shrugs casually. Then he notices something behind Varadha and his face brightens even more. “Devaratha! Come, join us!”

“Baba’s calling you Mahit,” He responds dryly, coming to stand being Varadha’s chair. “Something about drafting the trade agreement with the Russian Bratva.”

“We did that already, I thought?” Mahit frowns, pulling out his notes and flipping through them. “Did he say what exactly about them?” 

“No, just that he needed you.” Deva rests his hand on the back of Varadha’s chair and leans casually to the side. Mahit groans, standing up and grabbing the necessary files.

“Fine, feel free to make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done with Baba.” Once he leaves, Varadha turns to look at Deva, skepticism written on his face.

“I thought Baba was supposed to have a meeting with the Ghaniyaars today?” 

“He does.” Deva shrugs, coming to stand in front of Varadha. 

“Then what was that about?” He flicks his chin to the side, staring up at Deva in amusement.

“He was getting a little too comfortable with you,” Deva steps forward, leaning down to pull Varadha’s sunglasses off his face. “It was getting on my nerves.”

“Oh?” Varadha observes with open interest as Deva straddles him in the chair, placing the sunglasses off to the side, wrapping his arms around Varadha’s neck.

“Yeah…” Deva leans in, kissing him with teasing nips and licking between his lips. Varadha’s fingers dig themselves into the flesh of Deva’s hips, a low rumble forming in his throat.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this, but he’s going to catch us when he walks back in.” Even as he says it, he doesn’t really make an effort to nudge Deva off. 

“So? Maybe he’ll finally get it into that thick skull of his that you’re mine.” Deva gently bites into the flesh of Varadha’s bottom lip, pulling it out slightly before releasing it. He watches greedily as the skin begins to swell, sensitive to the assault, particularly after the events of the previous night. Varadha meanwhile, swallows hard.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Deva.” His hands lift higher, making their way to rest under Deva’s shirt, coming into contact with his warm skin. “If you’re going to show him I’m yours, I expect you to do it properly.”

Deva’s pupils darken and without further prompting, he tugs at the gray scarf wrapped around Varadha’s neck, peeling it away to reveal the love bites he had peppered on his skin earlier. He places soft kisses across the length of his neck, coming to nibble gently at his earlobe as he brings his hands under Varadha’s shirt to run his nails over the muscles of his abs. Varadha lets out a sigh of pleasure, tilting his head back against the chair and allowing for Deva to explore his body as he sees fit. 

Deva slips himself out of the chair, getting to his knees in front of Varadha, who acknowledges the action by gazing hungrily at him from hooded eyes. Deva wastes no time in reaching under Varadha’s black dhoti, wrapping his fingers around his hardening cock to pull it out. He runs his thumb over the tip of Varadha’s head, leaning down to blow at it softly and bites back a smile when Varadha twitches with anticipation. 

Deva begins to lick at the tip while his hands pump the length of his cock leisurely. He tightens his lips, inching his way down Varadha’s shaft, pulling back up before going back deeper each time. Soon, he’s bobbing his head at a rapid pace, his tongue exploring every inch of sensitive skin, lapping up pre-cum as the hairs of his beard scratch teasingly across the surface of Varadha’s dick. 

Varadha moans at the feeling, fingers twisting themselves into Deva’s hair as he begins to thrust up into his mouth, impatient and desperate to chase his pleasure. Deva hollows out his cheeks immediately, allowing Varadha to take control and to use him for his own gratification. Deva begins to play with Varadha’s balls, tugging and squeezing, while running his other hand across the skin of his inner thigh. 

“Fuck,” Varadha whimpers, his cock twitching between Deva’s glistening lips as he continues to shove his dick into the warm cavity. “God, Bangaram. You’re the only one who does this to me. You’re the only one who drives me crazy with need.”  

Deva watches from below as the Varadha’s face twists with pleasure. His eyes are closed, lips forming a small O, and chest heaving with aroused breaths. Deva slowly swallows around his cock, savoring the salty taste of him against his tongue as he manages to pull another groan from between Varadha’s lips. 

That’s when he catches sight of Mahit frozen in the room overlooking the balcony, shock painted across his features at the unexpected sight. Their eyes meet and Deva feels a burst of possessiveness overtake him. Instantly, he hollows out his cheeks further, taking Varadha so deep into his throat that his nose touches against his stomach. Two more thrusts is all it takes for Varadha to come crying in his mouth, falling back against the chair and swallowing heavily as he tries to control his breathing.

Deva meanwhile, keeps his gaze fixated on Mahit, swallowing the musky taste of Varadha, his tongue darting out to swipe away at any excess lingering on his lips. Mahit’s eyes snap to capture the gesture, his eyebrows furrowing for a second before he turns to leave the room, the door closing quietly behind him. 

“Come here,” Varadha grabs Deva by the collar, pulling him back into his lap to steal eager kisses. He then buries his face into the crook of Deva’s neck, laughing to himself. “God, I love you. Do I tell you that enough? That I love you so fucking much?”

“I think you could stand to tell me a little bit more, actually.” Deva replies, a burst of happiness exploding within him upon hearing the words from Varadha’s mouth. 

“I’m glad I have your permission, because I’m going to spoil you rotten with those words. I love you, Bangaram.”

#salaar #varadeva #devaratha raisaar #salaar fic #salaar fanfic #varadha rajamannar

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 3 - Your Friend, Your Soldier

Part 2 | Part 4

Varadha is frozen against the backdrop of night, eyes wide, lips parted, and silent. Deva doesn’t have it in him to move, to pull away even as embarrassment starts to settle into his bones. He shouldn’t have done that, he shouldn’t have put the burden of his devotion on Varadha. Not when he already has so much to worry about. The last thing Deva wants to be is a hurdle in Varadha’s path. He’s here to help him and that’s what he should be focusing on instead of–

“You don’t mean that.”

“What?”

“You can’t possibly mean that, Deva.” He replies again, a tremor to his voice. Deva hesitates, because this is it. He can take back what he said in this moment. He can make Varadha’s job easier. He opens his mouth, ready to do just that.

“I do mean it. I’m yours.” But his heart won’t let him. Not after the decades apart. “In whatever capacity you want me. I will be your friend, your soldier, your…”

“My?” Varadha’s expression doesn’t change, stark-still, his obsidian eyes darkening. Deva doesn’t know how to respond, nerves on high alert. He’s never been good with words, never known what to say. Most especially to Varadha, who never questioned his taciturn nature, instead reading every expression on his face with ease. However, in a moment such as this one, maybe… just maybe, he needed something more.

So, ever so slowly, Deva lifts their intertwined hands from his chest, bringing Varadha’s hands closer to his lips. He watches as Varadha’s gaze follows the path, frame wound tight with an emotion he can’t quite place. He tries not to let the intensity of the moment unnerve him any further, letting his lips brush against Varadha’s hand and placing a featherlight kiss against the battleworn skin.

Suddenly, Varadha closes the gap between them, pulling Deva closer to his body using his collar as leverage. His hands come up to cradle Deva’s neck as their foreheads touch.

“I-” he rasps, his eyes flickering rapidly, the sentence unable to form on his tongue. That’s as far as he gets before Deva’s arms come around him, pulling him onto his lap, wordlessly acknowledging the emotion hidden beneath the surface. Varadha’s legs wrap around Deva’s torso, their bodies fitting together flawlessly and Varadha finds that his fingers instinctively tangle themselves into Deva’s hair. Varadha’s body flushes as he waits for something more, but Deva pauses under him, looking up at Varadha, unmoving save for the shift of his fingers as they slide under the black kurta and brush against the bare skin of his waist. “Deva…” 

That’s all it takes for him to cave. For him to lean up towards Varadha, bringing their lips together in a gentle caress. Varadha groans, his hands pulling Deva in closer to deepen the kiss, nibbling along the chapped surface and running his tongue in teasing motions as he works to soothe the ache. His hands run through Deva’s thick hair, nails scratching delicate patterns across his scalp. A whimper escapes Deva’s lips and Varadha laps it up greedily, preening with the knowledge that he was the reason for such a delightful noise.

He pulls away running his thumb across the glistening skin of Deva’s lower lip and catches the spark of admiration in his eyes. It gives him all the confidence he needs to pull his kurta off his torso, savoring the sharp intake of breath as Deva devours the sight of him illuminated by nothing more than the streetlights. Varadha takes Deva’s left hand in his, dragging it up the length of his bare skin, before letting it come to rest against his chest. He finds himself wondering if Deva could feel just how rapidly his heart was racing and if he realized that this feeling was for him and him alone.

Deva runs his palm over the pebbled surface of Varadha’s nipple, eyes glazing over with heat as Varadha digs his nails into the skin of his shoulders. There was something so striking seeing him in this way. The lean muscles of his smooth, dark skin were marked by small scars that he must’ve gained from the past few days of battle. His thick, silver necklaces clang against each other, shining as they catch the city lights, working to enhance the sharp lines of his physique. Even with his hair tousled and unkept in the aftermath of their tangle, there’s a glint of power in the depth of his eyes that drives Deva wild with desire.

Deva presses closer into Varadha’s space, bringing his lips to the sensitive surface of his neck, relishing the taste of him. In no time at all, the kisses morph into bites that leave Varadha begging for more within seconds, body flushing with need.

It’s all the signal Deva needs as he lifts them off the ground, moving them to the bed and settling atop Varadha, thighs framing the sharp lines of his waist. He begins to peel out of his shirt, eager to feel Varadha’s flesh against his own, a visceral craving overtaking his body.

“I need you too,” he mouths as he descends, grasping Varadha’s neck and placing a ravaging kiss against his swollen lips.

#varadeva #salaar #salaar fanfic #salaar fic #devaratha raisaar #varadha rajamannar