Hello again everyone, after such a long hiatus, I know most of you have given up on me, but during the darkest times of mine, I realised how much a good story can be of help, make you feel better... and I also realized it sucks if it doesn't have a proper ending. So here I am, writing the rest of this story as I promised. Now, as a bonus, we finally see some supernatural, and things heating up. It's extremely long, I hope it makes it up to you. Love you guys for supporting me and being with me to this time. Enjoy.

The pain was hard to bare as Padmavati forced her belly under layers of wrapping. During their journey to Malwa, she was praying to the gods that her child would find room inside her body to grow and not extend her belly any further, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. A five months old baby was hard to hide. It was Ila's advice to wrap her belly, she told her that some girls who got pregnant outside marriage hid their pregnancies this way. It made Padmavati's stomach turn that she has to treat her child as if he's illigetimate even before he's born.

Trying to get dressed by herself was causing her to sweat and shortness of breath, but the heat of the desert was enough to drain a person out of energy. She wanted no servants inside her tent and insisted that this was necessary for her safety, reminding Khilji the incident of her poisoning with fake horror when he offered her some maids. Every jewelry and piece of clothing is harder to put on with the pregnancy limiting her flexibility, but she manages finally, exhaling loudly.

Khilji was showering her with all kinds of clothes and all of them looked like pieces of art. She had no idea where he got such a taste. She couldn't help but feel thankful for having so many heavily embriodered shawls to drape over her belly, even though it looked irrelevant sometimes, they did the job.

Looking at her reflection covered in ochre and gold, she covered her curls with a thick shawl and draped the remaining length of cloth across her belly. She applied kohl to her eyes to protect them from the unforgiving rays of sun.

*the beauty of a flower pales, next to your ravishing charm*

As Padmavati meet her own dark eyes in the mirror, she remembered Khilji's song, the one with he sung with great sadness as he kept his eyes on her face. She wanted to look at him, slowly burn him in the fire of her beauty. Knowing him must have made it easier for her to fill him with false hopes.

*amidst the flowers in the garden, you are like a rose among thorns*

Getting to know him, Padmavati thinks. It was needed for her escape plan, for her revenge. Now she finds herself staring at her own image, wondering what made her the sun to his world, heart to his body, and the rose among thorns. His voice and the memory of dancing flames surrounded her like an insidious, intoxicating smoke, blurring her mind, twisting her guts. He was nothing like the men she knew, and her wisdom fell short for any form of description she tried to make up for him. It just did not make sense, did not balance. She felt herself slipping into a trance-like state, where the moment he stood close to her and told her to blow into the embers played in her mind over and over again. The more she tried to define it, to understand it, she drifted away from meaning and got closer to a place where only sensations existed. The warm wind of his breathing, the vibration of his closeness, the fire coloured light of the sunset shining on his eyes, the sudden combustion of flames. She felt herself being anchored to the moment, impossible to move out of it. Dear God, it was heavy.

If it weren't for the startling voice of drums and horns outside, Padmavati would surely be caught staring absently into her own eyes through the mirror by Malik Kafur who came to fetch her for the celebration. Their eyes meet via the mirror the moment he steps in, and Padmavati falls into a inner conflict whether to consider him as a man or a woman while fixing her dupatta over her hair.

He was the only one Khili trusted with her, other than a very few female servants, which were picked by Kafur as well. Padmavati did not question this matter unlike the rest, she knew trust was a very tender thing, built on and of experiences that one can not always rationalize. Awful resemblance with romance.

Kafur held back an urge to tap his foot impatiently to the floor, watching her gather her dress and the masses of fabric enveloping her, moving like an old woman rather than a young, atrocious queen. She even seemed like she was struggling to stand straight. Khilji aged women well before they were supposed to be, Kafur thought. Mehrunissa would be the first on the list of proof.

Padmavati sighed shortly and turned back to Malik Kafur, expecting a brief of today, some information, but he declined wordlessly, knowing there is no need and averted his eyes.

***

The Khilji Army marched towards the walls of Malwa, they stomped their feet to the soil with confidence and pride.

The doors of the castle were untouched, as Khilji wished to be the first one walking in there. Malik had protested the idea due to the dangers it might cause but Khilji laughed it off.

"Their king poisoned himself so that he wouldn't have to face me. Their men failed to protect the women, they shared the same fate with the king. The captives were so scared to die that they took our side. Now... What kind of danger can I possibly face, Kafur? Maybe someone who is actually brave enough to look at me? That would be rather entertaining."

Kafur remained quiet and watched the soldiers cheer and yell with their ultimate wilderness. This much passion and craziness only came to surface when Alauddin Khilji himself motivated them. Otherwise never, not even in the battlefield, the men were capable of creating such bestial sounds nor acting the way they do now. Their heavy swords was stabbing the air for the last fifteen minutes even though they were partially fed and exhausted from the road. What Malik saw was undeniably clear, and it made him fall for Alauddin once again. Fighting for their own lives didn't fill the Khilji soldiers with such strength, Kafur could see it in their eyes. The spark, the feeling of completeness, the hope and the great faith to conquer till the ends of the world; this fire belonged to Alauddin and it took over two thousand soldiers like a wildfire in seconds.

If only he could have him like Padmavati can... The thought made Malik's hands claw and his insides shiver. The world would be theirs. No, the world would be Alauddin's, and Alauddin would be his. There would be nothing but them in the history, their great unmatchable glory.

Kafur's eyes wandered on the horizon and the heights of the castle. He wasn't sure that the castle was perfectly safe, but knew for a fact that another clash with the enemy was not going to happen considering the amount of people they have killed. Perhaps they would find some scared women and little children, snuggled in corners and dark alleys, and babies hidden under beds; left to the enemies' mercy. Kafur did not enjoy that part of the war. It was not exciting nor flattering, yet he had seen men taking great pleasure.

He heard a female's voice right then, a shocked, silent gasp. He tought he imagined it, a distant memory from a battlefield playing in his mind, a slender woman struggling on the ground to get free from a soldier's assaulting grasp. However, he discovered that the source of the voice was right next to him, Rani Padmavati, throwing her dupatta away to gain freedom of movement, her eyes locked to a point far away. It took him seconds to understand what she was doing.

---

Padmavati rode next to Khilji and thought it was careless and very mannish of him to underestimate that "what dangers could he possibly face". Nothing could save The Castle of Malwa from the conquest at this point, but Khilji's life would still be under threat by a surviving hater, -or a crowd of haters, considering his awful reputation as a Sultan- and it would still mean danger. She heard leaders losing their life soon after their victory. She had a crippling feeling that he might share the same fate with those men when she looked around her.

All those men, drunk on their victory, ready to take down every wall and slaughter every living thing at his command. Half fed, dehydrated and roasted under the sun for days, they still seemed to have the energy for more. She looked at Khilji again, his eyes were darker with contagious ambition. His roar was distinguishable from the war cries of ten thousand men, booming right next to Padmavati's ear. He was so caught up that he didn't feel her gaze on him, -he always did- nor the determined gaze of an archer taking aim on him from a tower of the castle.

Somebody must have, Padmavati tought as she conciedentally caught the sight of the archer drawing the arrow. She was already getting rid of her dupatta covering her arms and hair as she mentally calculated the landing area of an arrow shot from such a long distance: at least a hundred meters. Time slowed and stopped when her body leaned out of her horse and she reached for Alauddin's arm. If he dies now, there will be chaos, a voice whispered in her mind that was not her own. Just let him die, her own voice answered when the archer released the bow, and Padmavati watched it travel the distance. Do not let him die, she heard Mehrunisa's voice in her mind. The arrow was halfway when she became certain that it was going to land on Khilji. You are the chosen-

Then it all happened very quickly, she saw the arrow zipping through the tail of Khilji's horse and sticking into the desert sand with great force. Then she felt herself losing her seat and undefinable warmth, same as she felt earlier today. Next things she saw was a sky filled with arrows flying to the opposite direction and a dark object blocking half of her eye sight. The noise changed frequency, it was hoarse and unintelligible. She was out of focus again but something was pulling her up to the surface, she felt water drifting around her and then-

"Padmavati!" Khilji shook her shoulders violently which caused her wavy hair to fall around her face, which carried the perfect expressions of shock. Her eyes were wide open, wider and scarier than they usually are and she was breathing heavily, through her open mouth. She looked around to see Khilji circling her waist with his arm and holding her face up to his with the other, keeping her from collapsing to the ground.

It occurred to her that she lost her balance when she held Alauddin and moved him away from the arrow's direction, and Khilji caught her before she hit the ground with impressive amount of strength.

"Padmavati." He said again, calmer this time. His brows knitted together with worry, but his eyes carried gentleness that was very unfamiliar. "Are you harmed?"

Padmavati shook her head no, and tried to get up on her elbows. Then she realized the rest of scene and the source of the shade she was resting: At least twenty men with their shields were circling them, all of them facing back from the two, to ensure privacy and safety. There was sharp pain in her back when she tried to sit up, so she gave up and exhaled loudly.

She met Alauddin's eyes again, which was eyeing her up and down, looking for a sign of distress, or any sign at all. She felt dizzy with panic, and her cheeks flared with sudden realisation of her position, which made her growing belly obvious. He noticed it, her mind screamed, he noticed it. This is the end of it all. Padmavati wanted to scream a lungful, run as fast as she can, travel back in time and let that arrow hit him-

"You saved me." Alauddin said with a hint of gratitude, and no other implications.

Padmavati's silence continued, but she had a questioning glare, as if waiting for a conclusion, a declaration of his discovery, a verdict. Or was he going to end her life wordlessly, finding it unnecessary, unworthy to acknowledge a reason behind it? There was no point. No point at all, when she clearly failed to protect what remained of herself. Now, it was ending as it should've months ago.

Khilji, in a truly unexpected way that stopped her mind from working, smiled. "By your face, I can tell that you are regretting it already, Rani."

She looked at him, still expecting, an affirmation that he will not shapeshift into a dragon, an image that just popped up in Padmavati's mind she tought to be Khilji's actual form, and burn her world down one more time.

"Nothing," He said, pulling her dupatta over her curls, and pushing her hair behind it with the side of his hand. "Absolutely nothing must scare you, my queen, after all, no one else knows the fire as closely as you do."

He grabbed her by the waist and her elbow and put her on her two feet effortlessly. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, and felt herself getting sick with the idea of him starting to know her well enough to read her mind.

***

The evening of the celebration was incredibly quiet with great contrast to the day. Everyone was fed and watered, soldiers slept the deepest sleep since the beginning of the journey. Most servants were allowed to rest until tomorrow noon. Everyone seemed satisfied, even the pleasant weather and the light breeze that cools Khilji's chambers had a kind feel to it. Everyone, Khilji huffed, frustrated. He could not even stay still. Everyone but him.

He twitched on his seat awkwardly, moving the furs and rugs under him. The chair strained and squaked under his constantly shifting weight. He scraped his beard, neck and forehead by turn. He took breaks only for exhaling loudly or trying different combinations of itching his limbs simultaneously.

Khilji had sworn an oath. A secret oath which only he knew about, after socializing with Padmavati in a civilized manner. He would not force her to anything she did not want to do. That was only because he started to believe that she can be convinced, or decieved to be exact, into liking him. Alauddin could be a charming man if he wanted to. He could be anything, if it meant that he is going to have her.

Now, after today's events, after being saved by her hands, his oath became impossible to keep. He surely was not an honorable man, nor it would be the first time he broke a promise or given up an oath. Just the thought of her eyes, the feel of her weight on his arms were too hard to remove from his mind. He took off his crown and threw it across the room.

The servants waiting by the entrance of his tent exchanged confused glances. One of them opened his mouth to ask if something was bothering him, but the other one stopped him immediately by grabbing his arm.

"Don't," he whispered meeting the young boy's clueless eyes. "Or he will take it out on you."

The man held a very serious expression, so the boy made no objection, nodding quietly.

Sultan paid no mind to the servants' conversation, he was used to be acknowledged as a monster. There was a tiny bit of hope for a different opinion, a kindness of heart, a geniune listener, someone who thought he was worth saving and Khilji craved her more than everything else in the world.

"Leave." The Sultan said to the servants, his face turned to the direction of Padmavati's tent.

---

Her room was a humble one. There was a matress by the entrance of the tent, a medium sized mirror placed on top of chests that carried her clothes. Bowls of water, some cushions scattered around the rug covered floor, a dozen of candles fixed on a string to provide adequate light for the night. A fur covered chair on the far end of the tent. A stack of fans were laid out on the floor behind it. So she walked around here, on the soft Turkish carpets that covered the floor, and fanned herself throughout the day on this chair. He could see it all, even with his eyes open.

Then he saw her, the destined queen, doe eyed goddess. Her head slightly bent to the side, removing her earrings with a graceful move of her fingers. She was wearing a cream nightdress, it was made of soft cotton and had a perfectly embroidered, silk piece as an outer skirt. Most of the fabric was crowded behind her, and it gave her such a feminine figure, Khilji applauded himself for his choices mentally.

She still had the ochre dupatta wrapped around her shoulders, even though she left her hair completely free. One end of the dupatta was draped over her torso, hiding her other female parts which Khilji was determined to discover tonight.

She combed her hand through her waves absent-mindedly, completely unaware of his eyes on him. Khilji shivered as an image passed his mind, her hair sprawled wide on a matress and her smooth, slender neck turned to side for him to kiss, claim, leave his mark. He did not recognize the place, nor the clothes she was wearing, but it was there. It felt like a vision, a prophecy rather than a product of his sinful mind.

Even Alauddin Khilji would not dare to interpret his perverted mood as sacred, but it did feel sacred, in a way he wished not to elaborate. His vision encouraged him further, he walked into the room. The soft rug was warm under his bare feet, probably by her earlier presence there. A shiver ran through his body. An hour ago he was thinking that he reached the upmost limit of desire but now he knew he could not be more wrong.

So wrong.

His predator's eyes found hers, raising a surprised gasp and a few involuntary steps away from him. Her deep pink lips parted to greet him, or maybe to tell him to get out of her tent, but Alauddin was content for it to remain a mystery. He launched himself forward and crashed his lips to hers before she could utter a word, filling her open mouth with his.

***

Her warmth gave him something no other flesh could give, as he knew it would, but it was not what he expected. His maddening lust dissolved slowly as Padmavati's lush lips moved against his. This, surprised him more than her eager response he could not predict.

Shock faded fast. A sense of peace descended upon both of them like a thick fog, as they drank from each other's lips. Khilji's hand found her neck naturally and Padmavati clinged on his shoulders to keep herself from swaying backwards. There was a softness, an unexpected gentleness in his demeanour. His hand slowly moved down to her back, while the other one cupped her face, holding her in place. Padmavati's began doing the same, finding no will in herself to resist. She discovered that his dark locks of hair were much softer than she imagined it would be. His skin was warm, and the stubbles of his face were not irritant at all. Alive, she thought. Not a demon. Quite the opposite. He was divine.

He felt her delicate being under the contracting muscles of his arms, fully surrounding her now. He did not breathe- they did not breathe a since their lips met. However it felt entirely natural, knowing that they now existed in a reality where time and place was not ruling. Khilji knew.