IKASAMPUNG KABANATA - tr. CHAPTER 10
Ngunit bakit ika'y nanghihina sa aking mga bisig?
Then why do you tremble in my arms?
DIWA
Hours turned into days, and I found myself settling into the rhythms of life within the Rajah’s home, nestled amidst the lush greenery of the forest. Each morning, I woke to the melodic chirping of tropical birds and the rustle of bamboo leaves in the breeze. Each night, I fell asleep beneath the canopy of stars, my mind filled with dreams of freedom and vengeance.
The Rajah returned from his duties in the nearby village, his presence announcing itself with the soft thud of footsteps against the bamboo floor. As he entered the room, his eyes widened in awe at the sight of me, adorned in the finest malong and jewelry he had provided.
"Diwa," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder. "You are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined."
I met his gaze with a cool indifference, masking the turmoil raging within me. His words were empty flattery, designed to manipulate and control, yet a part of me couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at his reaction.
He approached me, his eyes roaming over my form with undisguised hunger. "Tonight," he announced, his voice carrying through the room, "we shall celebrate our union with the people of the village. They deserve to share in our joy."
I nodded, masking my true feelings behind a facade of compliance. The villagers would witness our marriage, a spectacle of power and dominance designed to solidify the Rajah’s control over me and our land.
As the sun began to set, we made our way to the village square, where the people had gathered to witness the ceremony. The air was thick with anticipation, a palpable tension that hung between us like a veil.
The village square was decorated with colorful woven textiles and fragrant flowers. Bamboo torches cast a warm glow, and the aroma of roasted meats and sweet rice cakes filled the air. The villagers, dressed in their finest garments, stood in a semi-circle, their faces alight with curiosity and excitement.
The Rajah stood before the crowd, his voice ringing out with authority as he announced our marriage. The village babaylan, or spiritual leader, stepped forward to officiate the ceremony. She carried a bowl of rice and a cup of wine, symbols of prosperity and unity.
The babaylan chanted ancient prayers, invoking the blessings of the ancestors and the spirits of the land. She sprinkled rice over our heads and handed us the cup of wine to share, a gesture that signified the merging of our lives and destinies.
The villagers cheered and applauded, their faces alight with joy and excitement. But amidst the celebration, whispers began to circulate through the crowd. Some questioned the sudden disappearance of Vray, the Rajah’s former betrothed. Rumors spread like wildfire, suggesting that she had been done away with to make room for a new, more beautiful bride.
I felt the weight of their gaze upon me, their curiosity and suspicion like a tangible force in the air. But I held my head high, refusing to show any sign of weakness or fear.
As the night wore on, the revelry continued, the music and laughter drowning out the whispers of doubt. Traditional instruments like the kulintang and agung filled the air with rhythmic melodies, while dancers moved gracefully to the beat. But in the quiet moments between songs, I could still hear the murmurs of the villagers, their questions lingering in the air like a dark cloud on the horizon.
But as I looked out at the faces of the villagers, their eyes filled with hope and admiration, I knew that my sacrifice was necessary. I would bide my time, waiting for the opportune moment to strike, to reclaim my freedom and my honor.
And until that moment came, I would play my part, smiling and nodding as the Rajah wrapped his arm around me, claiming me as his own for all the world to see.
As the celebration waned and the villagers dispersed, the Rajah and I retired to our chambers, the air thick with anticipation and desire. The flickering light of oil lamps cast dancing shadows across the room, adding to the sense of intimacy that hung between us.
The Rajah approached me slowly, his gaze smoldering with raw desire. With each step he took, my heart quickened, anticipation coursing through my veins like wildfire. His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine as he traced the curve of my jaw with his fingertips.
"I have waited for this moment," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending a thrill through me.
I couldn't help but marvel at his beauty, the way his dark eyes seemed to hold the secrets of the universe, the way his lips curved into a sensual smile that promised untold pleasures. In that moment, he was more than just a man; he was a force of nature, a tempest that threatened to consume me whole.
But I couldn't forget Tandang Huray's words. I couldn't forget who he was. I had to resist, to defy him, for the sake of justice. Yet, as he drew me into his arms, his touch igniting a fire within me, I felt my resolve waver.
"Diwa," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin, "you are mine."
"No," I retorted, my voice trembling with both defiance and desire. "I am not yours, Rajah. I am my own."
He smiled, a knowing, almost predatory smile, and pressed his lips to mine in a searing kiss. I melted against him, my body arching instinctively towards his, betraying my rebellious thoughts.
The kiss was fierce, a battle of wills. I refused to let him dominate me, to claim victory so easily. I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with a ferocity that surprised even me. My defiance poured into the kiss, a silent declaration that I would not be conquered.
The Rajah responded with equal intensity, his hands gripping my waist, pulling me tighter against him. The heat between us was undeniable, a primal force that defied reason and logic. With each caress, each whispered word of affection, I felt myself slipping further under his spell, intoxicated by the heady rush of desire.
I pushed him back slightly, just enough to catch my breath, my chest heaving. "I am not yours," I repeated, my voice a breathless whisper, my eyes blazing with defiance.
He smirked, his eyes dark with desire, and leaned in again, capturing my lips in another passionate kiss. This time, I didn't hold back. I met him with equal fervor, my hands roaming over his body, exploring the hard planes of his chest, the strength in his arms.
The kiss deepened, became more urgent, more consuming. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a clash of wills that neither of us wanted to lose. His hands roamed freely over my body, igniting a fire within me that burned brighter with each passing moment.
In his arms, I felt safe, protected, desired. And as he pressed me against him, his hands roaming freely over my body, I couldn't help but surrender to the overwhelming tide of passion that threatened to consume us both.
"Diwa," he breathed, his voice rough with desire, "you are mine."
"No," I whispered again, my voice weaker, my resolve crumbling. "I am not yours."
"Then why do you tremble in my arms?" he asked, his eyes boring into mine, challenging me.
I had no answer. I couldn't explain why his touch made me feel alive, why his presence made my heart race. All I knew was that in his arms, I felt a connection I couldn't deny, a desire that defied reason. In that moment, there was only the two of us, bound together by desire and longing, lost in a world of sensation and pleasure. And as the night stretched on, we gave ourselves over to the fire that burned between us.
I woke up the next day, the first rays of dawn filtering through the delicate curtains of our home. The warmth of the Rajah's body beside me was a stark reminder of the previous night's passionate encounter. My heart ached with a confusing mix of emotions—desire, defiance, and a burgeoning sense of rebellion. The Rajah stirred, his eyes slowly opening to find me standing there. A slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and he reached out a hand to me.
"Come back to bed," he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.
I hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, allowing him to pull me back into his embrace. As I lay beside him, I knew that my journey was just beginning. The fire between us was undeniable, but so was my commitment to my cause.
And as I rested my head against his chest, I whispered to myself, a silent vow: "Someday, I will be the serpent."
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