The sky was not yet fully lit when the palace gates of Kunthala opened, revealing a procession unlike any in recent memory.
At the front rode Bahubali, resplendent in light silver armor with Mahishmati's emblem on his sash. His horse was a fine steed, jet-black with gold-tipped reins—Virendra had insisted that guests of honor must never seem lesser than the host.
Behind him, clad in dark steel that reflected nothing but resolve, came Virendra, flanked by twelve of his personal guards. He wore no crown, no gems, only the carved panther brooch of Kunthala on his chest. His presence was power enough.
Devsena followed between them, her horse draped in fine silks of violet and crimson, the colors of both blood and royalty. Her posture was calm, but the wind tugged at her veil just enough to reveal a faint smile—one that masked uncertainty.
They were not traveling as a war party, nor as a wedding delegation. This was a gesture of diplomacy and power.
Behind them trailed a carefully selected escort of one hundred mounted archers, sword-wielders, and courtiers. No elephants. No musicians. Just riders, armor, and silence.
The statement was clear: Kunthala does not beg for peace. It brings its own.
---
The journey would take ten days.
The first three passed uneventfully, winding through familiar forests and riverbanks. Birds flew overhead. Villagers emerged with respectful bows but kept their distance—whispers already spreading that Devsena might soon become Mahishmati's princess.
Each night, they stopped in secured royal waystations, rotating watches as if in wartime. Even Bahubali—so used to the comfort of Mahishmati's inner peace—found himself admiring Virendra's discipline.
He noticed the way Virendra never ate first, always tested water himself, and gave orders in clipped phrases that inspired immediate obedience.
One night, over a sparse fire with only the guards nearby, Bahubali finally asked, "Is it not exhausting? Carrying all of this on your back?"
Virendra looked up slowly. "The weight only breaks you when you forget why you carry it."
"And why do you?"
"For them," Virendra said, gesturing to the sleeping men under awnings, the scouts resting against their spears. "And for her." His eyes flicked briefly toward Devsena's tent. "So she'll never bow her head —not to invaders, not to tradition, not even to expectation."
Bahubali said nothing, but the flicker of respect in his eyes deepened.
---
On the sixth day, they passed through a border village claimed jointly by both Mahishmati and Kunthala. The people there—caught between two powerful kingdoms—watched the party with hushed awe.
Virendra stopped when he saw the state of the children—thin, bruised, coughing from bad air. The village head bowed profusely, explaining that bandits had looted supply wagons meant for them.
"Mahishmati said they would send soldiers," he added quickly. "But no one came."
Bahubali looked pained.
Virendra said nothing, only gestured for his men to open three of the wagons behind. Inside were food packs, dried fruit, iron tools, and cloth.
"Share it well," he said. "And if any man threatens your peace again, fly this flag." He handed the village head a small silk pennant of Kunthala.
As they moved on, Bahubali turned to him.
"You do that often?"
"Only when it matters," Virendra said. "Compassion without spine is pity. I prefer compassion with memory."
---
On the ninth day, they finally saw it: the great stone towers of Mahishmati, rising like pillars from the earth, ringed with layered battlements and massive statues carved into the hillsides.
Devsena's breath caught in her throat.
It was her first time seeing the capital. The city was thrumming with life even from a distance—crimson banners fluttered, horns sounded at intervals, and rows of soldiers drilled in formations.
But what stood out most wasn't the grandeur.
It was the watchfulness.
Dozens of eyes tracked them from the walls. Scouts signaled from towers. This was a city that trusted no one. Not even guests.
Virendra leaned forward in his saddle slightly. "They've been watching us for the last league."
Bahubali frowned. "I'll signal the gates."
"No need," Virendra replied. "Let them see we come without fear."
He adjusted his cloak, straightened his posture, and rode tall as they approached the main gates.
---
As they crossed into the outer courtyard, a full retinue awaited them. Rows of Mahishmati guards flanked the approach, all armed, all still.
Then, from within the grand gate, stepped a small group—led by a woman in deep red robes, her hair wrapped in gold-threaded cloth.
Rajmata Sivagami.
Her eyes first fell on Bahubali, softened with pride.
Then shifted to Devsena, unreadable.
And finally to Virendra, lingering long enough for everyone to feel it.
"You have traveled far," she said in a voice like flint. "Mahishmati welcomes you."
Virendra dismounted with fluid grace and bowed slightly—just enough to be polite, not deferential.
"I thank you, Rajmata. Kunthala is honored to step through your gates."
Sivagami smiled faintly, then turned to Devsena. "You must be tired. The palace is prepared for you."
"I thank you, Rajmata," Devsena said. She stood straight, her voice neither meek nor haughty.
Bahubali stepped forward as if to speak—but Sivagami had already turned to her attendants.
"Escort them to their quarters. The court will convene tomorrow. We shall talk then."
And just like that, the queen who had once promised Devsena's hand to another turned away, the folds of her robe sweeping behind her like a cloak of war.
---
That Night
In the royal chambers, Devsena paced, unsure whether to feel cornered or honored.
Virendra, sitting by the wide window that overlooked the city, finally spoke.
"She hasn't changed," he murmured.
"She doesn't seem angry," Devsena said.
"That's what worries me."
They shared a quiet moment.
---
The great throne hall of Mahishmati was not built for comfort.
It was built for awe.
Stone columns thick as trees lined its edges, each carved with scenes of victory and judgment. The high ceiling was designed to echo every word spoken, and the floor beneath—black polished obsidian—reflected the faces of those who entered as if to remind them: the kingdom sees everything.
This was not a court.
This was a crucible.
Virendra stepped inside with deliberate calm, walking alongside Bahubali and Devsena. His steps echoed evenly—unhurried, yet far from hesitant. His face remained unreadable, but his eyes never stopped scanning—pillars, archways, courtiers, guards, exits.
A tactician's gaze in a hall of monarchs.
At the far end, raised above three short steps, sat Rajmata Sivagami Devi. She wore no crown, but the red and gold drape over her left shoulder shimmered with such dignity that even kings had bowed to her here.
To her right stood Bhallaladeva, armored and silent, arms crossed.
To her left, three senior ministers and the court priest—watching every motion of the approaching trio.
The murmurs began as soon as the visitors entered. Noblewomen whispered into jeweled fans. Merchants squinted. A few of the younger courtiers who'd heard tales of Kunthala's prince leaned forward for a better look.
This was the boy-turned-savior who had crushed the Pindari with thunder.
But he looked no boy now.
---
Bahubali approached first, bowing with respect.
"Rajmata. As requested, I have returned with Princess Devsena and her brother, Prince Virendra of Kunthala."
Sivagami offered a nod but said nothing to Bahubali directly instad people loudly cheer for their next king Bahubali.
she rose from her seat, gaze steady.
"Kunthala's strength is known. Its resistance against the Pindari has honored the southern lands."
Virendra bowed—not low, but deep enough to match her formality.
"Mahishmati's acknowledgment means much. Kunthala bleeds but does not break."
A few ministers exchanged glances. The choice of words was deliberate. Sivagami noticed too—but showed no reaction.
"You are welcome in this court," she said, and gestured to the second row of seats.
"But not in the first," Virendra thought, noting how Bhallaladeva remained standing like a sentinel beside her.
---
What followed was less a meeting and more a delicate war of posture and phrasing.
Sivagami began by praising Bahubali's role in helping defeat the Pindari.
"It was said Kunthala used some new weapon. Something that could shake the earth," she said, her voice calm but curious.
Virendra offered a faint smile. "We used fire and iron, Rajmata. Tools available to all—if one knows how to wield them."
"Would Mahishmati be able to wield them?"
Virendra let a pause linger. "If its enemies ever required it."
Silence fell.
Bhallaladeva's jaw tightened. One of the priests coughed awkwardly. Even Bahubali shifted slightly, unsure how to defuse what was clearly escalating.
But Sivagami didn't push. She simply nodded and moved to another topic.
"Princess Devsena," she said, voice almost gentle, "your bravery during the skirmishes reached our ears. A queen's spirit already."
Devsena bowed slightly, her tone cool. "I was taught that leadership must stand where blood is shed."
"And where shall it stand next?" Sivagami asked. "In Kunthala—or in Mahishmati?"
A beat.
"I go where I am needed," Devsena said.
It was neither a yes nor a no.
It was defiance in a velvet glove.
---
After the court session, Sivagami requested a private meeting. Only the three visitors, Bhallaladeva, and her senior advisor remained.
The guards sealed the chamber.
"I will not waste words," Sivagami began. "This match was promised years ago—between my son Bhallaladeva and Princess Devsena. It is a union that would bind Mahishmati and Kunthala permanently."
Virendra leaned forward just slightly. "Yet that promise was made without Kunthala's consent."
Bhallaladeva's eyes narrowed.
"I do not remember asking for consent," Sivagami said.
"Then it is good that Kunthala does not remember giving any," Virendra replied smoothly.
The silence was a blade.
But before Bhallaladeva could speak, Bahubali stepped in.
"Rajmata, forgive me—but I thought this match was between me and Devsena, and the princess has already heard my intentions. And her family supports them. I did not realize any other offer had been formalized."
Sivagami studied her son, then Devsena.
"Do you love him?" she asked directly.
Devsena's voice was calm. "I respect him. I admire him. Love grows in sunlight, Rajmata—not under decree."
Virendra could see the flicker of fury behind Sivagami's eyes. But she simply nodded.
"Very well," she said. "You may stay here for one month. Let time reveal the truth. Mahishmati does not deny allies—but it does not forget debts either."
They were dismissed.
But Virendra knew this wasn't a retreat.
It was a recalibration.
---
That night, as they gathered in their chambers, Bahubali was fuming and went to visit Sivagami Devi.
Upon reaching her chamber and gaining audience he started telling her of his visit to Kunthala and ask her to let him marry to devsena.
Sivgami replies ,"Your brother has given up his claim on throne and you don't even want to grant him his only wish to marry Devsena?"
"She is her own person, We don't have power to decide on her behalf. And she has came here trusting me, I will not break her trust like this, You have tought me better than this."
Sivagami Devi is alrady angry thinking her son Bahubali is alrady taking Devsena's side instad of family. She wants to break this marriage and force Devsena to marry his son Bhallaladeva. But unfortunately Kunthala is not that weak and she can't give up a chance to control it.
She thinks if Devsena marries Bahubali than Devsena will have too much say as queen, so she came up with different idea.
She gives ultimatum to Bahubali, " Either you can marry devsena or become king."
To which Bahubali readily accept giving up throne to marry Devsena.
---
Unknowing of this conversation Devsena and Virendra are having their own conversation.
"She didn't even acknowledge the war! Didn't care how many lives we saved."
Virendra poured himself a drink, sitting calmly by the lamp.
"She didn't care about the war. She cared about the aftermath."
"Meaning?"
"Mahishmati has grown too used to obedience," Virendra said. "Our refusal is a wound to her pride. That makes us either an asset or a threat. She hasn't decided which yet."
Devsena looked between them. "And if she chooses the latter?"
Virendra smiled faintly.
"Then we show her the price of underestimating Kunthala."