CHAPTER 5; The Untold Story Of Arundhati And The Black Emperor
The night had become interminably long, but then Narsimhavarman had to blame himself.
If only he had, in an impetuous moment, risen from his slumber and seen that one day actually he would have to face this.
Life could never ever be normal again. He felt he should run and not give in to the desires he so desperately wanted to quash, but it was too late. He looked at her. She was there with her doe eyes, smudged with bluish green kohl. It seemed she had been crying.
The wild flowers in her hands feebly pulsating, as they lay dying, clasped in between her fingers, ripped from the warm earth that bore them, but then limp in the cold that surrounded her in foggy winter’s night, chilling her soul to its very core.
The Palace seemed to heave a sigh, with their ancient stones groaning under the weight of the ages. The sights and smells of despair were oozing from the entire magnificent room and it looked as though she was trying to drift past memories of old days.
She thought, looking at her handsome lover….
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‘I was lost...
Lost in a world of web of dreams...
But you brightened my life..
I was nothing...
You illumined my sighs....’
I was lost in the venom-laced web of sweet words...
But you kindled my thoughts…
I was just dust...
You made an idol of it...’
She glided to him gracefully, asked in Sanskrit looking deep into her lover’s eyes. “Will you love me when I get old and wrinkled?”
“More,” without losing even a second, he replied, and came closer to her, almost drowning into her deep eyes.
Bosom heaving with passion and love, she paced gently nearing the proximity.
The tinted embossed glasses of the windows glowed with the weak flickering of candle flames, catching her gaze before shifting back to the dark of the night.
She was there in all her essence to be loved by her lover... her prince.
He inhaled her pheromones as she stood beside him. ‘No, I am not going anywhere. I am going to stay here in my own kingdom. I have promised to love her always,’ he said to himself but it sounded like one of his another hollow pledges! Mahendravarman’s orders could not be evaded!
‘But can’t I defy my father? And why can’t I? After all, I am the future Pallava king, he questioned himself
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and tried to find the answers of his questions, half concentrating as his entire body was then throbbing for the woman breathing deeply and gazing at him with a strange maddening effect. He needed her badly. His manhood was then demanding only the unique love, shaded with lust for which he always pined.
He did want her to perform for him that night but only in bed! He felt embarrassed, almost degraded that she could do this to him. But he needed the exquisite pain; it was for this which it seemed to him, he had been living for.
Drenched in passionate sweat, he came closer to her. She looked profoundly into his eyes.
“Sivagami,” the Prince could utter only this much. His tongue was getting dry and throat choked. He was breathing hard. Narsimhavarman wanted to apologize—wanted to speak so many things but he was finding himself, enwrapped in a mesh of want, desire, duty, love…and lust.
The dasis quietly left the room drawing the beautiful long flowing heavy curtains.
She gets up and understanding what his lover wanted then, came closer to the wine scented body of the prince, and entwined her to him. Their lips met. His grip tightens on her body and she was drowned once again in an unknown world of cravings…
The maddening effect of his kisses was not letting her mind work. His hands gliding from her milky soft rosy cheeks, traversing her slender neck reached her heaving bosom. It halted there for seconds, making her shiver and journeyed down to her flat stomach stationing at her navel. He had always loved her kissing there...
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Sivagami had understood that her lover did not want the night to be wasted on words. She was then not able to understand her fate and destiny but wanted to squander no time on understanding it either!
She had full faith on her prince and wanted to satisfy him in all possible ways. Quietly she guided him to the bed. She had heard the Pallava king’s orders and had wanted to do whatever she could do for her lover. This was not their first time but it seemed to her so…
The outer garbs drifted away as he took her in his arms. The beloved of the mighty lover was that night not wearing any jewellery except a dainty silver girdle around her small waist.
“Oh you bewitching witch!” the prince spoke ruggedly—his breath harsh and passionate—his dark black eyes smouldering with seething passion. He unhooked the girdle and let it slip on the bed somewhere.
“You are mine, you understand!” he spoke, lowering himself on the soft supple body of his beloved. “Ahhh... how I want to be always with you,” he breathed inhaling the intoxicating perfume of the fresh flowers entangled in her lovely long black hair, reaching up to her waist.
Coming closer to him, he looked to her as though passions were getting freed, which were building in her core.
The amber glow flickered on her pale white skin as she lay with her hair, curling in black tendrils across her body. Her eyes were softening with his touch. He bent on her body, teasing her navel with his tongue making it travel from there to her aroused heaving womanly mounds!
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She took his hands and lips to her bosom—her bosom, which was creamy and soft, responding to every touch of her lover.
The prince’s hold was getting tighter on the dainty body of his beloved. His hands went to her smooth back caressing and teasing it, pushing and bringing her to himself and with a jerk, he brought her on top of him—his manhood finding its way to culminate in unique excitement and fervor.
Love was upon their lips, but it was not spoken or murmured. They probably knew their fate. Searing, burning lust drove him to this place and their ballet played on through the night.
Slowly building, touch upon touch, the tingling energy of their souls united into blazing inferno of wild hedonistic beasts, pounding and thrashing against the tides of desire and primal need.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers to her half-way through his lovemaking.
Kissing wildly her neck, he bites there purposely so the king sees them tomorrow. The king should realise how much his son loved the woman who his son had given the command that night to ride him. His son, who could win the Universe, was being won over by a woman.
He thrusts hard as though to prove the king that he hated him for his calculative ways. She groans out with pain. He is sweating.
“I am sorry,” he whispers to her, holding her back and going harder. The rhythm continues. He could see she is tired and brings her under him and takes the command. He does not want the night to end… he does not want to leave Sivagami.
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She cannot control this unique passion. Her love for him goes beyond reason—he knows this but everything is left unsaid as they take the night to their soul.
She is feeling his touch which melts her heart. Her glowing body never sated, exuding cooling sensations. Her electric blue aura entwines with his blood red radiance, spiralling around their writhing dance of lovemaking—the skins beneath their fevered brows feeding off the energy, as they welcome each other’s touch.
The darkness wanes but not their desire. Their thirst to spend their entire lives in each other’s arms heightens!
Their love was complete, yet incomplete as they wanted to make it again and again!
Their lust gorged, her wild yearnings stilled for a time, their souls again as one. Their bodies heaving and panting drenched in sweat seemingly satiated in the darkness of the night.
The wild flowers crushed and their fragrance intoxicating the place of their lovemaking.
After a few hours, the sun will shine once again and once again sink deep into the Krishna River but there would be no Sivagami entwining as a she-serpent to her sandalwood tree…Narsimhavarman... her life... her soul!
Slumber falls upon the satiated body of Sivagami, wrapped in Narsimhavarman’s arms. This is the comfort she had needed and had dreamed of each day where her soul had wandered alone.
He holds her like a precious gift. The fire dwindles until the only warmth is her body against his. He knows when she will wake up, he will be gone.
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Stirring slightly in her sleep, her warm lips brush his cheeks and ear, whispers like a warm wind upon his soul.
Left cold and lonely, he watches the sun break on a new day and quietly leaves her... deserting his beloved for his father’s sake... for his kingdom’s sake, promising himself to come back soon, not knowing that fate had something else stored in for him. He would be able to take his revenge, defeat all the mighty rulers but the corner of his heart craving for his beloved would always remain vacant!
