Archive of Our Own

"You don't have to," he murmurs, leaning against the table and trying not to look too startled by his reflection in the nonad of mirrors in front of him – an exact replica of the set of mirrors that had existed in a palace hundreds of years ago.

Harsha wonders if this elaborate costume room with its priceless artefacts has become their sanctuary precisely because of how reminiscent it is of the life they'd once lived. The costumes, the ancient jewellery, the armoury on the walls.. all of it making up a space that belongs just to the two of them.

"Is that so?" Jai says, voice laced with quiet amusement, interrupting his thoughts. "Do you know m-me that well?"

"Well," Harsha begins, "to the extent that there must be a reason behind why you were boring holes through me. As to what that reason is – I have a feeling it's going to be something outrageous."

Jai's lips quirk up. He uncrosses his legs and rises up from his seat, walking over to him. "It's just a s-simple request."

Harsha blinks. "It's a what?" A request? Jai?

"Request," Jai repeats, coming to stand in front of him and looking very much like he's giving out an order.

But Harsha only pays half a mind to it because his focus momentarily shifts to how close Jai is. All the man is doing is standing before him and yet, Harsha feels so damn flustered. Will he ever get used to this intimacy?

"Really? What is this request of yours that requires you to stand so close?" he asks, trying to look unaffected.

Jai leans forward slightly. "The request ha-has nothing to do with this, I just wanted to be close to you," he murmurs.

"Oh." Harsha can feel his cheeks grow hot. Goddamnit, why is Jai's flirting so intense?

"As for the re-request –" Jai begins, an unusually hesitant look trickling into his expression.

It's the way he says it that piques Harsha's curiousity, bringing him back to himself. "Yes?" he prompts.

Jai frowns, almost as if he half wants to swallow the words at the tip of his tongue.

"Just say it Jai." Harsha's voice is soft. It's not like he can reject any request of his anyway.

The words seem to be the nudge Jai needs. His expression clears up and his lips part.

"I want to see you as Bhairava."

It takes a moment for Harsha to understand what Jai means, before it dawns on him. Did he hear him right?

"You mean you want me to..?" he trails off.

Jai responds with a question of his own. "Will you?"

Dress up as Kala Bhairava? But why? is what Harsha wants to ask but looking into Jai's eyes, the words don't make it past his lips.

So he nods slowly, trying to come to terms with the idea. "I will."

Despite being the one to make the request, Jai doesn't show any outward reaction to Harsha's acquiescence. "In the chest of drawers," is all he mentions.

Harsha doesn't miss the tension that has seeped into his shoulders though. His heart thumps as he slips past him and walks across the room to the chest he'd referred to, his mind whirling with a plethora of emotions as the past replays itself in his head, as if it had only occured yesterday.

Bhairava and Raavan. Theirs was a love story that had ended as a tragedy because their positions as soldier and king hadn't allowed for something as tender as love to bloom.

Harsha still remembers the look on Jai- no, Raavan's face when he had rejected his love back then.

For someone who was usually able to mask his emotions with anger, he'd displayed such a vulnerable expression as he silently stood and absorbed the words that Bhairava had wanted to hold his face in his hands and chant a million I love yous till he'd erased that pained look off his face. But instead, he'd turned around and left the room, ignoring the heart rending pain that tore through him.

Of course, the anger had come later. And it had taken everything in Bhairava to not succumb to Raavan's fury as he had demanded him for the truth he was hiding in his heart.

A truth that Bhairava never had the chance to tell him in the end because their story had come to an abrupt conclusion in a war that had ended with the death of a soldier who had died protecting his king.

As Harsha stands in front of the chest, his mind goes back to the devastated expression Raavan had wore that day as the words Bhairava had wanted to say had died along with him, leaving the man behind to suffer in his stead all alone.

The pain and longing from all those centuries ago hits so hard every time that he needs to remind himself that it's all in the past. A past that hasn't healed yet.

He takes a shaky breath, heart roiling with emotion as he pulls open the drawer. Despite knowing what to expect, he can't help but feel stunned when his eyes fall on the contents inside.

Bhairava's clothes. His clothes.

He brings up a trembling hand, running it gently over the neatly folded material.

Since when did Jai want to see him in them?

Knowing the man, he must have wanted to from the moment they both got back their memories – half a year ago. And yet, Harsha never realised it till today.

Harsha likes to think that if there's one person he understands better than himself, it's Jai. But time and again, he proves to him that he can be infuriatingly enigmatic when he wants to be.

He turns to look at the broad back of the man who's standing stone-still in the same spot that Harsha left him in. Is this the reason behind all those times Jai pinned him with that undecipherable gaze when he thought Harsha wasn't looking?

And is this the reason he isn't so much as glancing Harsha's way now when he's doing exactly what he wants?

He lets out a soft sigh, turning back. He should get changed.

The room is quiet save for the rustling of clothes as Harsha transforms himself into the person he once was. Despite having gone all the way with Jai, he feels uncharacteristically nervous as he discards the T-shirt and jeans and stands exposed in the closed space, back aflame even though he knows Jai isn't looking.

Heart thumping, he unfolds the wheat coloured shirt and pulls it over his head, the sequins decorating the edges of the sleeveless top glinting under the golden light from the bulbs above.

Back then, the majority of his wardrobe had comprised of shirts with the exact same design, and pale orange cotton dhotis. His standard attire.

He takes out the orange cloth from the drawer, wrapping it around his waist. He has never worn a dhoti in this life but he does it with practiced ease, folds and tucks coming to him naturally, as if he's back in time, getting ready to go out as part of his everyday routine.

It's when he goes to take the belt that he notices that he'd missed two items of jewellery that had been placed below the clothes – a necklace and a pair of earrings – perfect replicas of his accessories from back then. Just how much attention had Raavan paid to Bhairava for him to remember every detail so clearly till now?

He wears the belt, adjusting the lion crest to the centre, before picking up the necklace and hooking it securely around his neck. It's a simple article, clay coins strung together, but it feels beyond precious when he thinks that Jai might have made it himself.

The metal earrings come last. He puts them on slowly, his nervousness increasing now that he's done getting ready. The whole thing feels so surreal that for a stupid moment, he wonders if it's really happening. How will Jai react?

As his looks down at himself, he can't help but notice again just how close his attire is to what he used to wear back then.

He closes his eyes and takes a moment to compose himself before opening them again and turning around. His gaze automatically falls on Jai, who hasn't budged an inch from his spot. As if he's waiting for a spectre from the past to come and end his wait.

Every muscle in Harsha's body is coiled tight as he starts to walk back to him, padding softly through the room. It's barely been a few minutes since Jai asked him to change into these clothes but it feels like an eternity has passed between then and now.

"Hey," he calls lightly, as he comes to stand next to him, feeling nervous beyond measure. For all the harrowing experiences he's been through, nothing comes remotely close to this.

Jai has his eyes closed but the moment Harsha calls his name, he opens them, pinning him with a gaze so heated that Harsha sucks in a breath, shuffling back a step. But Jai reclaims the gap the next second, moving forward and crowding Harsha against the table as his hands come to rest on either side of it.

Harsha gasps, trying to get his bearings at the sudden development, heart rate spiking.

"J-Jai.." he begins but he doesn't know what to say. If it were the usual scenario, Harsha would have pulled the man in and planted a hard kiss on his lips. But now, as much as he longs to, he also feels terrified. Because Harsha and Jai might have kissed many times but Bhairava and Raavan haven't.

So when Jai leans in, he feels so light headed that he squeezes his eyes shut, the anticipation igniting a flurry of emotions in him. Jai's gaze burns in the darkness behind his lids.

But the kiss doesn't come.

Instead, after a few seconds that seem like hours, Harsha feels a touch on his forehead that has his eyes fluttering open.

His vision is blocked by a hand that draws something between his brows before Jai takes his hand away and puts the coloured pen back in his pocket.

A crescent moon.

Kind and calm – that is what the symbol had signified.

He watches as Jai's eyes take him in, a subtle satisfaction on his face. Harsha wants to ask him if he had done justice to the credo but before he can say anything, Jai backs away, moving aside.

Harsha doesn't get his intentions initially and he almost wants to pull the man back to him but Jai turns around then, looking straight ahead.

And it's then that Harsha's gaze shifts as he realises he's looking at the mirrors. The nine mirrors at the other end of the room that are reflecting a version of him that he hasn't seen in ages.

The moment his eyes land on them, he can't help but hold his breath.

Satruvuni chendade dheerudu

sathadhruvamsa yodhudu

Kala Bhairava.

Once upon a time, he had heard those lines singing his praise so frequently that he had desperately tried to live up to them. But now, the face he's looking at feels unfamiliar in its familiarity.

He takes a few steps forward, looking at the man in the mirror. Their previous lives may have been a part of them but till this moment, they had only been vivid images of the past. But somehow, just a simple change of costume seems to make everything come back to life.

It's as if he's back in the colossal palace again, standing under a beautiful ceiling painted with rich artworks and surrounded by walls with intricately delicate carvings.

"Why not ten?" he had asked back then, looking at himself in the newly installed mirrors in the king's room.

The king had stood behind him, eyes locked onto his through the mirror. "According to a legend I h-heard when I was a child, King Raavan had s-s-sacrificed one of his heads to please Lord Shiva," he had said, before adding after a pause, "And this Raavan ha-has sacrificed one to you as an apology for his arrogance."

The words echo in Harsha's head as if they had been uttered only a moment ago. Words that had been the beginning of a change in the tyrant who had ruled his kingdom with oppression till then. Words that had eventually paved the way for love between two people. Words that had led to Bhairava addressing the king by his rightful title for the first time.

As the thoughts cross his head, a strange feeling grips him. It's as if the past is bleeding into the present and he's back in a different time, a different place. As if he's no longer Harsha.

It tastes right on his tongue, like it belongs there.

His eyes meet Jai's in the largest mirror in the centre and in that moment, there is a rush of something profound that has his heart constricting painfully. The word leaves his mouth like the fall of a petal.

"Maharaj."

The expression on Jai's face changes when he hears it and he walks forward with his jaw set, turning Harsha round to face him.

"Bhairava." It's said as a harsh whisper, infused with an ache of a thousand years and Jai's grip on his arms tightens as he looks at him with an expectant expression, as if he's afraid the man in his hands is going to disappear a second time from him.

Harsha feels light; there are no weapons on his body to weigh him down this time with responsibilities and no one to ask him to stay away from the man he loves. He looks into inky eyes that seem to want to devour him and he utters the words that he couldn't before death had come for him.

"I love you."

The king's eyes melt then, like gold in a fiery furnace, just about ready to devour him with their hungry gaze, and the hands on his arms slip to his back to pull him flush against his body. And Bhairava, as terrified as he is of the first kiss, he also longs for it with his entire being so he throws his arms around his neck and pulls him in.