They hadn't suffered any losses on the first day, but the second day itself rolled in the casualties. Her nephew and Bhrata Shrutayudha's son Chakradeva and her cousin Kethuma were killed by Bheema.

Bhanumati held Bhrata Shrutayudha, tears rolling down her face uncontrollably as he howled in anguish.

"I can't--I can't do his last rites, I can't-- " He gasped. "He was my baby boy! How can I carry his ashes?!"

His wife had gone into a dead faint upon seeing her son's body. Everyone knew that they and their loved ones could die in the War. Everyone feared it. And yet when it happened, it took you under all over again.

Bhanumati felt her stomach twist itself into knots and it seemed as if a lump had lodged itself permanently into her throat.

It was only the second day. Only the second day!

After the previous day's victory, Bhanumati had tried her best to push down all her negative thoughts and hope for the best in the War but almost immediately her direct family had been killed. How did one even attempt to stay positive after that?!

She turned her blurry gaze to look at Duryodhan who was standing silently with a brooding look on his face. She wondered how he would look when the rest of their nephews started falling. As long as Pitamaha was alive, he would keep them all alive, but once he fell, if he fell.......

Kalinga's forces had taken a heavy hit that day. These were their first truly major losses and the army's morale had already gone down.

Once the day's funerals were over, Pitamaha gathered the whole army to raise their morale. Bhanumati always wondered how it was that the Generals managed to convince the soldiers to fight another day despite so many casualties and so much damage, with nothing more than words.

Pitamaha Bheeshma dazzled silver in the Moonlight as his voice crescendoed and he was answered by the deafening roar of the Army.

The next day dawned bright soon enough.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The third day didn't fare well for them either. Mid afternoon, there was a sudden commotion in the camp. Bhrata Karna rushed into the healers tent with... Duryodhan leaning against him?!

Bhanumati ran after them. Duryodhan had gotten injured badly enough that he had to come back to camp for treatment.

Bhanumati watched with wide eyes, heart thudding violently in her chest, as the healers worked at full speed to get him patched up well enough so that he could return to the battlefield. None of them said anything and Duryodhan merely shot her a smile before returning back to the battlefield to lead the rear front.

It seemed that after last day's victory, the Pandava army had gained even more confidence and despite Pitamaha Bheeshma, Guru Drona and Ashwathama showering arrows on them throughout the day and dealing them heavy damage, they still won the day's battle, with Arjun blocking Pitamaha's way and drawing what was practically a river of blood from their army.

As the Sun set and the army returned, she heard Bhrata Karna growl, "This would not have happened if I was on the battlefield! I could have kept Arjun busy fighting with me and then the rest of the army would not have suffered as much and we could have won!"

Duryodhan took his words to heart and went after Pitamaha again, saying that Karna should be able to fight with them.

Bheeshma only mildly told him that Karna himself, in front of all the Kings, had sworn not to fight under him, so was he going to break his vow now?

This led to another massive argument between grandfather and grandson and it was bad enough that Pitamaha actually became properly angry.

"Fine." He snarled at Duryodhan later. "Fine. You want me to show no mercy? I will show no mercy then. The world will see the most terrible avatar of Gangaputra Devratt Bheeshma!"

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For the next four days Pitamaha was like the Destroyer. He cut mercilessly through the enemies, not giving an inch even to his family on the other side. If they survived, it was because they were either skilled enough to do so like Arjun or Bheem, or because they were rescued by others.

It was strange to see the stern but kindly grandfather being replaced by a bloodthirsty war general. It sent chills down her spine. But they were doing better in the war and that's all that mattered.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

On the eighth day, there was an outrage regarding Bhurishrivas and Satyaki.

The old warrior had tried to attack Satyaki when he was down and Arjun had cut off his hand from behind. Bhurishrivas had raged at Arjun for attacking behind his back but Arjun had countered that what Bhurishrivas had tried to do wasn't exactly in the rules either. And then when the old warrior had sat down without weapons to repent, Satyaki had gotten up and sliced off his head.

On that day Arjun's son Iravan had also killed five of Mamashree Shakuni's six sons before getting killed himself.

The hits were getting closer and closer to home now and Bhanumati felt scared.

She had never seen Mama Shakuni shed tears before, but today he did.

This war was truly the destruction of them all if it could even make someone like Mama Shakuni cry.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Ninth day saw victory for them again due to Pitamaha's ferocity, but it also saw the return of an absolutely terrified army and absolutely shaken commanders. Pitamaha Bheeshma himself on the other hand looked rather serene and peaceful, in a way he hadn't looked like since that accursed Dyut Sabha.

"What happened?" She asked Duryodhan when she saw him. He looked very troubled.

He looked around for Karna without answering her and once his eyes landed on the older man, speed-walking towards them, he practically rushed to Karna and threw himself into his friend's arms.

"Who died?" Bhrata Karna asked quietly.

Duryodhan shook his head. "Many people as always and we lost a couple of commanders and Alambhusha was badly injured by Abhimanyu, but that's not the point!"

"Then what is?" Bhanumati asked.

"Today Vasudev broke his vow and picked up weapons on the battlefield to kill Pitamaha."

Bhanumati gasped loudly and Bhrata Karna's face turned into an expressionless mask.

"But--but Pitamaha is alright!" Bhanumati exclaimed.

"Yes." Duryodhan said, frowning. "Arjun stopped Vasudev saying that he shouldn't break his vow and that he will most definitely kill Pitamaha tomorrow."

"Do you think he will succeed?" Bhanumati asked worriedly. "He hasn't so far, right?"

"Apparently," Duryodhan ground out through gritted teeth, "He has not been giving his best while fighting Pitamaha. Sounds like a load of crap to me, but everyone else seems to believe it!"

"Pitamaha looks rather happy though, for someone who is supposed to die tomorrow." Karna dryly pointed out.

"Oh he is perfectly content!" Duryodhan finally burst out. "First of all, he can't die, so more like terribly injured and secondly, he'll be very happy to stop fighting against his beloved Pandavas." He spat. "He has never loved us as much and it has never been clearer!"

Her husband's shoulders shook and his chest trembled as he breathed heavily.

Bhanumati reached forward and grasped his arms.

She opened her mouth to say something, to attempt to reassure but she found herself at a loss of words. Pitamaha would obviously be given the best protection in the army tomorrow, his safety prioritised over everyone's except Duryodhan's. He would fight ferociously. There was nothing more that she could do or say.

She simply pulled her husband into an embrace, uncaring of the blood, gore and grime on his armour or of the fact that they were in public.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Later that night after she had taken a bath, she headed for Pitamaha's tent.

An Udupi dasi seemed to be taking food to him but Bhanumati intercepted her and told her that she would take his dinner to him.

"Pranipaat, Pitamaha." She said, entering his tent.

Pitamaha Bheeshma blinked upon seeing her and then smiled.

"Kalyaan ho. Come in, Putri."

Placing his plate in front of him, she sat down next to him.

"What brings you here now, Bhanumati?"

She was quiet for a moment, trying to think of exactly what to say.

"You look very peaceful Pitamaha."

The old man laughed, another sight that had been very rare over the past thirteen years.

"Well I've been told that I might finally get to rest from tomorrow. I've grown very tired, my dear. There is nothing I desire more than some rest."

"But Pitamaha!" she exclaimed. "If you die, your family will immediately start to fall on the battlefield. You know that, right?"

He sighed. "Of course. But they have started this Dharmayudh. And it cannot stop now. It must go on until only the true followers of Dharma, who will bring glory to this land, remain victorious."

Bhanumati could not believe her ears.

"So you are content to let all your grandsons and great grandsons on our side die!" She stood up angrily. "All so that some vague Dharma might be established in the future!"

"It is necessary for Dharma to be established." Pitamaha Bheeshma said sharply. "The Pandavas have suffered, Draupadi has suffered, for our actions or inaction."

"What were we supposed to do! We shouted from the balconies for them to stop Draupadi's dishonour, but nobody listened! I asked Duryodhan to return the Pandavas their Kingdom, but he didn't listen to me! You know how he gets regarding his cousins. So what was I meant to do!"

Pitamaha's eyes softened. "I'm not blaming you, my dear."

"But I will still suffer if the war ends like you expect it to. We all will." She barely managed to keep her voice at a respectful pitch.

"I do not expect anything." The old man sighed. "I wish for as less destruction as possible but this is a war for righteousness. All those who have been part of wrong must perish."

"What wrong has my Lakshman committed?" Bhanumati asked plaintively. "Or my nephews? With you gone, some of them might die. They are not responsible for anything that is happening. Yudhishtir on the other hand..." Her upper lip curled.

"In Ramayan, Vibhishan left Ravan to join Ram and he lived because he fought for the right side. Kumbhakarna fought with Ravan despite knowing he was wrong. Vibhishan survived because in the end, it is Dharma that prevails. Anyone who fights now for Dharma despite having committed wrongs before may at least have a chance to survive. But those who fight for Adharma even though they know its Adharma...they will most likely fall as well. And as unfair as it is, war always claims innocents. So..."

"You're not going to actually die tomorrow, are you?" Bhanumati felt a headache coming on and her eyes burned.

Bheeshma shrugged. "I can't know that. I will fight to my best abilities and I'll keep all my vows like I always have. But after that....."

"Why are you so sure you're going to die then?" Bhanumari asked desperately. "No one, not even Arjun has been able to touch you till now. Why should that change?"

"Arjun loves me very much and looks up to me greatly. He had not been giving his very best against me all this time, despite the fact that I was decimating his army. That is what caused Vasudev to be so very upset as to pick up weapons against me. Tomorrow Arjun will give his very best against me."

He smiled again. "And there might be a special weapon that I can't counter."

"What special weapon?!"

"Ah, I wouldn't know. You should return to your tent Bhanumati."

"But Pitamaha--"

"You should return."

And that was that. Pitamaha Bheeshma firmly turned his back on her and ate his dinner. He would not respond to any further calls of his name.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As the Sun set the next day, all other shadows lengthened but the protective shadow over the Kurus seemed to disappear.

The Pandavas blared the conch signifying the fall of the enemy Commander-in-Chief. Then there seemed to be silence all over the battlefield.

Nobody returned to their camps. The hundreds of thousands of soldiers created a tightly knit, enormous circumference around the Grandsire. The various commanders, nobles, Kings and Princes of various Kingdoms formed a much smaller circle within, and within that stood the Kurus of the youngest generation--the great-grandsons-- and then right around the bed of arrows kneeled the Kuru Princes--the grandsons.

The Royal Women from both the Camps then made their way into their battlefield-- something that was unheard of till that day.

The Grandsire lay, pierced by arrows, his usual sparkling visage of white and silver now speckled with red everywhere. He breathed heavily, but there was no sign on his face that he was in pain. He looked peaceful.

When he said he desired a pillow, soldiers rushed to bring the ones filled with the softest down, embroidered with the richest silk but he declined them. He asked his most beloved grandson, the one who had created his bed of arrows for him to create a pillow of arrows to support his head as well.

When he desired for water, once again soldiers rushed to bring it to him, but he quietly asked for his mother. And once again his most beloved grandson pierced the ground with his arrows to quench his thirst with a stream of water from Ganga. Once the soldiers and the warriors and the women who were not family had dispersed after paying their respects, the Goddess Ganga herself appeared to stroke her son's hair.

She alone remembered how he had once been young, how he once been carefree, how he had once played in her currents.

"I will see this War through to its end." The Grandsire proclaimed.

Only one warrior had not come to pay his respects to the Grandsire at that time, in the soft dusk. The King of Anga. And people claimed he was too cold, too proud to pay his respects to the Grandsire, the greatest warrior of the era simply because of their personal grudges.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"They cheated--They cheated!" Duryodhan screeched, grabbing onto Karna's shoulders, his eyes red and swollen, tear tracks lining his face.

"Dury--"

"THEY CLAIM TO LOVE OUR PITAMAHA! PITAMAHA ALWAYS LOVED THEM MORE THAN US! THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE THE DHARMA-FOLLOWERS AND THEY CHEATED TO KILL PITAMAHA!" Duryodhan roared, now violently shaking his friend.

"Duryodhan--" Bhrata Karna grabbed his hands and managed to pull him off.

Bhanumati watched as Duryodhan stomped around the room, shouting, yelling, cursing.

He knocked aside a vase and it crashed to the ground, breaking into several pieces and spilling water everywhere.

"THAT ARJUN-- HE--HE WAS NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO KILL PITAMAHA SO HE HID BEHIND THAT SHIKHANDINI LIKE A COWARD-- HE CLAIMED TO LOVE PITAMAHA THE MOST, PITAMAHA CERTAINLY LOVED HIM THE MOST AND THIS IS THE RETURN HE GIVES--"

He punched a table and smashed a hole into it, a few of the wooden splinters adding a couple more scratches to his already battle-scarred hands.

Bhanumati winced thinking of all the extra work the maids would have to do if her husband kept on rampaging like he usually did in a rage. The palace had several servants simply to clean, but here most of them were busy dealing with the dead bodies.

She didn't really think it would be prudent to stop him though. Besides, the servants were there to clean. She didn't like it, it grated on her nerves but it wasn't like her husband would simply stop if she asked him too. He never did. She exchanged a glance with Dussashan who was sitting across from her in the tent and seemed to think it wise to sit through Duryodhan's temper tantrum as always.

Bhrata Karna for once didn't seem inclined to be indulgent, however.

"Stop it, Duryodhan." He snapped and Duryodhan turned to glare at him.

"That Arjun resorted to chal to kill Pitamaha of all people, despite claiming to be Dharma's greatest advocate in this War, that son of a bi--"

"Duryodhan!"

"My grandfather has been pierced by arrows all over--"

"Yours and everyone else's." Karna cut him off. "You are very upset. So is everyone else. You don't see everyone else rampaging around though, do you? Now grieve, but please be a little less destructive because nobody is in the mood to indulge you right now. Everyone. Is. Upset. "

Duryodhan breathed heavily, continuing to glare, but then sat down with a thump. As always, it was only Karna who could make him do something opposite to what he wanted to. Duryodhan still looked murderous and as if he would like nothing better than to tear apart the whole tent, but seeing Bhrata Karna's scorching glare, he continued to attempt to only burn holes in the tent with his wet eyes.

Karna sighed and ran a hand through his friend's hair, briefly tilting the younger man's head forward to lean against his stomach.

"Everyone is upset, Duryodhan. But the War will continue tomorrow. And once you've grieved, you must get to work deciding the new strategies for tomorrow. The new Vyuhs that Guru Drona will suggest. My and my sons' positions in the Vyuh now. I'll come back in a while once you're ready."

Suddenly Bhanumati remembered. It had completely slipped her mind that Bhrata Karna would finally be entering the battlefield tomorrow with all his sons.

Duryodhan looked up then and opened his mouth to say something but Karna pulled away and slipped out of the tent before he could.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Shrouded in the darkness, knelt a lonely figure next to the Kurushreshtha's battered form.

They exchanged words like they had never before, using soft tones that they never had before, addressing each other by endearments never used before.

If anyone had heard their conversation, they would have been shocked to their core.

The Grand Excellency and the King of Anga known for their arguments now instead shed tears together for what could have been, in another world.

"If only I had accepted you as a Kshatriya!" The Grandsire bemoaned. "If only I had known the truth sooner!"

"What has happened has happened, Pitamaha. It cannot be changed."

"I will not tell you to join the Pandavas. I know your mother must have requested the same of you and that you must have turned her down. But knowing what you know now, my dear boy, you can completely refuse to participate in the War. You can live!"

A bitter chuckle came from Vasusena. "What would I do living if I let my friend die? How would I live if I break my vow to protect him? He who gave me a reason to live when the rest of the world scorned me? You understand vows Pitamaha, better than anyone."

When the Grandsire didn't answer, his eldest grandson asked, "Why did you not let me fight under you then? If you knew the truth?"

The old man let out a cry. "Because I know that when you and Arjun face each other, one of you will die. I wanted to prevent that for as long as possible!"

Vasusena was stunned. He had not expected that. A lump formed in his throat.

"I must walk on the path that Fate has laid out for me. That is my only option. Bless me, Pitamaha." He choked out. "I cannot enter this War without your blessings."

"Alas, I cannot bless you with Victory, putra!" The Grandsire's voice broke. "But I bless you with glory! Go, O valiant begotten of the Sun, O Radheya and walk on the Path of your Destiny. Go, O Vasusena, O Karna, O Vaikartana, and achieve Eternal Glory!"

And Radheya touched his Grandfather's feet and kissed his hand, wrinkled, but still so steady, before rising up, wiping his eyes clean of any evidence of tears and then headed back to his camp, to his best friend.

'Oh, it is true what they say!' The old Grandsire thought. 'The ones who are best deserving of the Crown, are the ones who never truly seek it. What a jewel we missed out on!'

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It's time to clash, it's time for war

This is a fight worth fighting for

Right here tonight

My fire is burning

We won't stop fighting till we win

Nothing else matters in the end

The rain of grief begins

This is the Rising

Everyone stand up again

'Cause this is the rising

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Welp. Lmao I had to really stop myself from truly indulging myself in that final part. This story is not from Karna's POV and yet this is the third scene he has cut from Bhanu's direct POV obvio cuz he's ofc my fav but you know. I can't stray any further because then I'll be straying from the main theme of the story.

Anyway, two more chapters left till the end. 

How did I characterise Bheeshma? Did I do him justice?

Also I will be sticking to complete canon with the War ofc, but.... what about the ladies? I don't want to kill them!!! :((((

Do you wish for me to stick to canon there as well(Vrushali, Bhanumati, all Kaurava wives kill themselves to join their husbands) or to deviate there?

Don't forget to leave comments and votes if you liked it!