Arjun's POV:

I crouched beside Draupadi, my breath ragged, eyes locked on the blood seeping out of her, darkening the ground beneath her.

The sight was unbearable—the once fierce and untouchable woman now a crumpled figure bleeding out in my arms.

My hands moved automatically, years of battle-hardened training kicking in as I tore my angvastra into strips, desperate to stop the life from pouring out of her.

“Draupadi,” I snapped, shaking her shoulder with more force than I should’ve.

“Wake up. You’re not dying here, not like this. Do you hear me?” There was an edge of panic creeping into my voice, and I hated it—hated the tremor, hated the terror that stirred beneath the rage.

Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, I saw her—a flash of the girl I used to know.

But then her gaze lost focus, slipping away like water through my fingers. “Arjun…” she whispered, her voice so soft it barely reached me.

Her hand reached up, fingers trembling as they grazed my jaw, and I stiffened. That touch—it was like she was reaching for a ghost from a lifetime ago.

“Why… why did you come?” Her words were a breath, thick with sadness. “You hate me…”

I clenched my jaw, tying the makeshift bandage around her skull, my hands working with a precision that felt painfully detached from the chaos inside me.

“You’re hallucinating,” I said, though my voice cracked despite myself. “Bleeding out does that to you. Now, stop talking. This isn’t the time for—”

“Always… so angry,” she interrupted, her eyes drifting shut again.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, and I tightened the cloth, too hard. She winced. “Haven’t changed, have you?”

Anger flared, raw and jagged, stabbing deep. “Don’t you dare,” I growled. “Don’t you dare start talking like you’re not going to make it.”

I moved to bind the wound on her side, the words spilling out harshly. “You think I came all the way here just to watch you bleed out?”

She exhaled a breath that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t laced with so much pain. “I didn’t… ask you to play the hero,” she whispered. “You don’t… have to pretend… you care.”

“Pretend?” The word stung like a slap, freezing me for a moment.

I wrapped the bandage tighter than I should have. “You think I’m pretending?” Her pained hiss shot through me like a curse. “If you weren’t half-dead, I’d—”

“You’d what?” she interrupted, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Yell some more? That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it, Arjun? Being furious… at everything.”

“Do you ever shut up?” I snapped, my patience fraying with every beat of my heart. “You’re bleeding all over me, and you still find a way to make this about my flaws?”

Her eyes flashed, dark and burning with a familiar resentment. “Then leave,” she spat, her voice trembling but sharp. “If I’m such an inconvenience, just go. Let me die in peace. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”

Her words sliced deeper than I expected. “You think I’d walk away? Now?” I leaned in, my face just inches from hers. “You’re lying here, fighting me with every breath, and you still think I’d leave?”

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice so small and broken it twisted my insides. “You’ve… done it before.”

The accusation crashed over me like a tidal wave, sweeping away my anger, leaving only a raw, pulsing pain in its wake.

I gripped her shoulders tighter, my voice trembling.

“You never understood me Draupadi. Not than not now.”

“Yes, sure. . .why… are you here?” She pushed, her breath hitching. “To save me? Or to… punish yourself?”

The question hung between us, cutting deep. I swallowed hard, shaking my head, trying to rid myself of the ache that had settled in my chest.

“You’re talking nonsense,” I muttered. “It’s the blood loss.”

“It’s the truth,” she retorted, her voice barely more than a breath. “You never… could handle the truth.”

Something snapped inside me then, a tightly coiled spring breaking loose. I gripped the bandage, tied it off harder than necessary.

“Maybe I should let you bleed out,” I said, hating the cruel edge in my voice even as I heard it. “Maybe that would solve everything.”

Her eyes went wide, a terrible emptiness seeping into them as she whispered, “If that’s what you want…”

My breath caught, a sick feeling blooming in my stomach.

“Damn it, Draupadi,” I breathed, my voice cracking under the weight of her words. “Don’t you dare think I want that. Don’t you dare…”

“Then leave,” she whispered again, her voice breaking. “Leave… and let me be. Let me die if that’s… what’s meant to be.”

“No.” The word came out as a growl, low and fierce.

“I’m not leaving you here to die. Not now, not ever.” I pressed my forehead against hers, the heat of her skin burning against mine.

“And stop talking about this like it’s some kind of release. You’re not escaping, Draupadi. Not like this.”

“You don’t… get to decide that,” she whispered, her tears spilling over as she trembled in my arms. “You don’t get to… choose for me.”

“I’m choosing to save you,” I said, desperation leaking into my voice. “And you’re going to let me, even if you hate me for it.”

She shook her head, the movement weak and almost imperceptible. “Always… so stubborn,” she breathed. “Can’t… let go, can you?”

“No,” I replied, my voice harsh and unyielding.

“Not you.” I tightened my grip, feeling the tremors in her body lessen slightly, though her breath was still ragged. “I won’t let go, Draupadi. Not now, not ever.”

As her consciousness faded, I lifted her up, her body limp and light in my arms.

I glanced down at her tear-streaked face, my heart throbbing with an ache that was almost unbearable.

Whatever had happened to her, whatever had caused this rift, I was not going to let her slip away—not like this.

I carried her, pushing the thoughts deep in the dark corners of my mind.

The infirmary loomed ahead, its white walls stark against the darkening sky. I had Draupadi cradled in my arms, her weight a mixture of strength and fragility that I hadn’t felt in years.

Her skin was cool against mine, and her breaths came unevenly, each one tinged with a silent struggle to remain conscious.

Even as her head lolled against my shoulder, there was still a spark in her eyes, a glimmer of that unyielding fire.

“I can walk,” she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. There was a stubbornness in her that would have been amusing if she wasn’t so damn close to passing out.

“Sure you can,” I retorted, not breaking my stride. “And after that, maybe we’ll run a marathon while we’re at it.”

I felt her shift in my grip, a feeble attempt to push me away, but I tightened my hold, my arms locked firmly around her.

The infirmary was close, just a few more steps.

She needed help. Proper help. But as I walked, her gaze suddenly sharpened, a touch of awareness flickering through her exhaustion.

“Where… where are you taking me?” Her question was slurred, her voice disoriented, a silver of panic lacing her slurred words.

“Where do you think?” I snapped, my tone roughened by frustration and fear. “To a damn tea party?” The words spilled out, coated with the sarcasm I could never quite help around her. “I’m taking you to the infirmary.”

The moment the word left my mouth, I felt her body go rigid in my arms.

She stiffened as if I’d thrown ice water on her, her eyes flaring wide with a terror so visceral that it felt like a punch to my gut.

Before I could react, she began to thrash, limbs jerking with a strength that seemed impossible given her state.

“No! Not there!” Her voice rose into a raw scream, tearing through the air with a desperation that left me stunned.

“Not the infirmary! Please, not again!”

The fierceness of her struggle was like nothing I’d seen from her before—she was wild, her nails clawing at my chest, her fists pounding with a frantic rhythm.

I nearly lost my grip on her as she twisted and fought, and I was forced to hold her tighter, practically crushing her against me.

“Draupadi, stop it!” I barked, panic edging into my voice as I tried to contain her flailing limbs.

“You’re going to hurt yourself even more! What the hell’s wrong with you?” But the words barely seemed to register.

Her eyes were unfocused, her breaths ragged as she struggled like a cornered animal.

“Please, Arjun…” she sobbed, her voice breaking in a way that cut deeper than any blade.

“Don’t take me there. Don’t… not again.” Her words stumbled over each other, half nonsensical, half pleading, as though she was speaking to someone else entirely.

The panic in her eyes twisted my insides into knots. I hadn’t seen her cry in so long, and now tears streamed down her cheeks, unchecked and unrelenting.

For a heartbeat, I stood frozen, the world narrowing to the sight of her crumbling in my arms.

It was like watching a statue shatter, pieces falling away to reveal raw, bleeding flesh beneath.

The woman who faced down armies without flinching was now trembling uncontrollably, her terror palpable.

And I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what had happened to her while I wasn’t there.

I cursed under my breath and did the only thing I could think of: I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her trembling frame, and held her tight.

“Hey, hey…” My voice came out softer than I intended, a strained whisper as I tried to cut through the haze of her panic. “It’s okay, I’m here. Easy, calm down princess."

It hurt to see her sob so desperately. I hated her. I truly did. But at this moment, I just couldn't.

There would be time for vengeance. There would be time for war. But not now. Not like this.

Her sobs tore out of her, desperate and broken, and she clung to me as if I were the only thing keeping her tethered to this world.

The tears soaked my chest, and the feel of her shaking against me—so fragile, so unlike the fierce woman I knew—sent a wave of protectiveness crashing through me.

Whoever had put this fear in her, whoever had made her feel this vulnerable, would pay dearly. But right now, all that mattered was calming her down, anchoring her to the present.

“It’s okay,” I murmured into her hair, pressing my lips to her temple as she trembled violently in my arms.

“You’re not going anywhere you don’t want to go. Just breathe, alright? I’m not letting anyone near you.” I kept my voice steady, even as my heart thundered with a mix of fury and helplessness.

She was still muttering, her words coming out slurred and disjointed as if caught in the grip of some horrible memory.

“Not again… don’t… not there…” She was barely conscious, her strength rapidly fading as she sagged against me.

I let her down gently, my arms slipping away just enough to let her feet touch the ground.

She staggered backward, curling into herself, hugging her arms around her middle as if to shield herself from some unseen threat.

When I reached out to touch her, she flinched, and the small motion cut deeper than I could have imagined.

The pain in my chest was a living thing as I crouched beside her, watching the way she drew in shallow, shuddering breaths.

“Draupadi,” I said softly, trying to draw her gaze to mine. “Look at me. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

But she didn’t respond, her eyes glassy and distant.

For a moment, I could only stare, my hands flexing uselessly at my sides. I’d seen her in a thousand different ways—angry, defiant, even broken—but never like this, never so utterly defeated by her own fear.

It terrified me to see her like this, to see the invincible girl I once knew lost to something so dark and twisted.

Finally, I managed to speak, my voice roughened by emotion.

“I promise I won’t take you there,” I whispered, a fierce determination gripping me. “But you have to trust me. Let me help you.” I watched her eyes blink rapidly, a slight recognition flashing through the haze.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Her legs gave way, and I caught her just before she crumpled to the ground, pulling her back into my arms.

Her head rested against my chest, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. “Promise…” she breathed, barely audible. “Not there…”

“I promise,” I repeated, the words a vow etched into my very soul.

I held her close, her weight limp against me as she slipped into unconsciousness.

I glanced down at her tear-streaked face, my jaw clenching as a wave of anger and grief surged through me.

Whoever had hurt her—whoever had put this terror in her heart—would soon know the meaning of vengeance.

But first, I had to take care of her.

With a grim determination, I turned and carried her toward my assigned quarters in Dwarka, my arms curled protectively around her as though I could shield her from whatever horrors haunted her past.

When I reached my door, I spotted Rana, one of my most trusted warriors, lingering nearby.

“Get Vinay,” I ordered, my voice sharp with urgency. I wished desperately to call for Nakul and Sehdev but the twins were back in Hastinapur with the rest of the family. “Tell him to bring along the necessary medicines.”

He nodded and sprinted away, and I pushed open the door to my room, laying Draupadi gently on the bed.

Even unconscious, her face remained tense, haunted. It was as if the nightmares wouldn’t let her go.

I turned to the guards stationed outside my door, my voice a low, lethal growl. “Bring warm water and strips of cloth. Now.” They rushed to obey, and I turned back to Draupadi, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from her face.

She looked so vulnerable, so unlike the unbreakable woman I’d always known.

As I gazed down at her, a mix of emotions churned in my chest—anger, sorrow, and a fierce protectiveness that bordered on madness. Whoever had hurt her, whoever had planted that fear, would pay in blood.

But for now, all I could do was hold her together while she shattered. . .

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