AJASHAKTI ANUGAMINI : An HHS Spinoff

CHAPTER 9

Ketunemi, the fallen king of Rakshasavart, was bound in chains and locked in the dungeon of his own kingdom as a prisoner of war. Outside the cell, Vakrang and Pralayant stood as silent sentinels. Their imposing figures cast long shadows on the walls.

"Surrender, Ketunemi," Vakrang's voice echoed through the stone, "and we will show mercy and give you a share of glory."

Ketunemi's laughter echoed through the dungeon, a chilling sound that belied the gravity of his situation.

"Vakrang," he sneered, "you speak as if you still are the king."

Vakrang's jaw clenched, a flicker of anger flashing across his face. The reminder of his dethronement was a festering wound. Vakrang said to gritted teeth, "Perhaps you should concern yourself with your own position."

"My position ?" Ketunemi retorted, "I am still the king of Rakshasas. Fallen, but still. And you are nothing but a servant to the Ajashakti."

Vakrang's eyes widened, "YOU-" "Enough !" Pralayant said, stepping forward. "He's playing games with you."

Vakrang, his face flushed with anger, turned to leave. The humiliation of his lost glory, and now being goaded by a prisoner, that too a Rakshas, was unbearable. Pralayant turned back to Ketunemi, his expression a mask of indifference.

"You're a skilled provocateur, Ketunemi," he said, his voice low and measured. "But your words hold no power here."

"Ah. The lapdog of Ajashakti." Ketunemi rolled his eyes.

Pralayant, his voice carrying a hint of weariness, spoke again, "Your resistance is futile, Ketunemi. Surrender now and perhaps we can offer you mercy."

"Mercy ? From you ? A danav ? Never !" His voice rose, a defiant roar echoing through the stone walls, "Even in death, I will not yield. And neither will my people."

Pralayant's gaze hardened, his eyes filled with a cold fury. With a final, contemptuous glance at the defiant king, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing through the silent corridors of the dungeon.

As he walked through the corridors of the palace, a growing unrest began to permeate the air. Thousands of Rakshasas, their faces contorted in rage, pressed against the palace gates. Banners, emblazoned with the symbols of the fallen king, fluttered in the wind. Their chants were a unified cry for revenge, a demand for justice.

"Bring back our king !"

"We will not tolerate this humiliation !"

"Death to Daityas and Danavas !"

"You will pay for this with your blood !"

Hearing these words, Pralayant realised that as long as Ketunemi refused to yield, the Rakshasas would never submit. The heart of a rebellion lay in the spirit of its leader. Until that spirit was broken, their defiance would endure. But how will it be broken ? Ketunemi was unafraid even of death.

Pralayant immediately rushes to the royal court. The throne room of the Rakshasa palace, once a symbol of power and glory, was now a stark reminder of the fallen kingdom.

Ajashakti sat upon the throne that belonged to Ketunemi. Before him, a group of Daityas and Danavas presented reports of the spoils of war - mountains of gold, rare jewels, exotic weapons and servants.

Their voices, filled with greed and excitement, echoed through the chamber. Yet, Ajashakti remained unmoved. His gaze was fixed on a point beyond the room, his mind lost in contemplation. The riches of the world held little allure for him.

Ajashakti's gaze then shifted from the eager reports to Pralayant, who entered with a respectful bow.

"Did the Rakshas-raj surrender ?" Ajashakti's voice, low and resonant, carried a weight of expectation.

"He remains defiant, my lord," Pralayant replied, his voice heavy with concern. "The Rakshasa people are rebelling. Ketunemi's defiance is only fueling the fire."

Ajashakti leaned backwards, his fingers pressing against his temples. His eyes, narrowed in concentration. He needed a solution, a decisive move that would crush the spirit of the king of Rakshasas once and for all.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the throne room, shattering the tense silence. All eyes, except Ajashakti's, were drawn to the disturbance.

A group of Daitya guards, their faces hardened with purpose, dragged a young girl into the chamber. The child, perhaps eight or nine years old, was dressed in opulent garments, her appearance a stark contrast to the grim surroundings. Yet, her face was etched with terror, her eyes wide with fear.

With a cruel disregard for her innocence, the guards flung her to the ground, her small body landing with a thud.

One of the Daitya guards announced, "This is Princess Ketki, the only daughter of the fallen King Ketunemi. The most precious spoil of our victory."

Ajashakti's gaze, for the first time, held a flicker of interest. His eyes, usually devoid of emotion, now held a curious intensity as they settled on the child.

"The king loved her more than his own life, your majesty. She is yours to command and yours to play with." Another guard said.

The mention of Ketunemi's love for his daughter piqued Ajashakti's interest. A smile crept across his face as he leaned forward, his gaze fixed on the terrified child. Ketki's small body trembled as she slowly lifted her head, her eyes wide with fear. The intensity of his gaze was overwhelming, forcing her to lower her eyes once again.

Ajashakti's gaze turned to Pralayant, a silent gesture passing between them. Pralayant nodded, understanding the unspoken order, and left immediately, his footsteps echoing through the silent chamber.

Ajashakti's gaze swept across the room, his eyes landing on the remaining occupants. With a curt gesture, he dismissed them. "Leave us."

The Daityas and Danavas left without a question. The heavy wooden doors creaked shut, leaving Ajashakti and the young princess alone in the vast, echoing room. A heavy silence descended upon the chamber. The only sound was the soft sniffling of the terrified child.

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A/N

Khurafati plan in Ajashakti's mind 🌝
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