Chapter Text
The moon shone bright, waxing toward the pournami. Two women were heaving and gasping, pushing infants into the world from the comfort of the womb.
In the palace, Her Royal Highness Sembiyan Mahadevi held the hands of her trusted handmaidens as the physicians encouraged her. Letting out a primal scream, she thrashed back on the bed, welcoming Vikramadeva. He would rule Mahishmathi, he would marry Mekhala of Sevvaranadu, they would beget Amarendra Baahubali, who would marry Devasena of Kuntala, and history would unfold in joy, wrath and vengeance in mind-boggling proportions.
For now, the boy was kissed and embraced, wiped with clean fabrics and wrapped in silk, his placenta stored in a copper vessel and sealed away. His little hand was dipped in blue ink and imprinted on the notices and diplomatic letters announcing the birth of His Royal Highness Vikramadeva Baahubali, pride of his father His Royal Highness Uttamadeva, first-born of the Mahishmathi Kingdom, the boy to unite his father’s Mahishmathi and his mother’s Sevvaranadu, the beloved jewel of the joyous people.
In a village fifteen leagues away from the palace, the queen’s youngest courtesan Kamala panted and cried, palms tightening into fists. The midwife Janaki stroked her back, whispering pity and mercy on her frail form. The child was born whimpering in the quiet night, hushed by the hand of his mother before his cries attracted any prowling predators.
Janaki waited until Kamala breathed normally. She noted the dispassionate look in her eyes and asked politely if they would prefer to wait in her house until the father arrived. The invitation was declined curtly, and Kamala asked if there was instead any temple where the child could be placed.
Janaki wrapped up the child in a swathe of cotton saris, braced the bundle against her chest and asked if he had a name. Kamala turned away in shame, tears beginning to flow. Janaki nodded in pity- courtesans were not new to bastards. Kamala was young, this would be her first child, but most likely not her last.
Kamala watched the woman walk away with her son until they were a speck of colour in the dark night, before beginning the slow walk back to her quarters.
Kamala, Sembiyan Mahadevi and Uttamadeva did not know it, but although Vikramadeva was the prince of Mahishmathi, and the heir, he was not the first-born of King Uttamadeva.