An hour had passed since Vinay had finished patching her up and left the room with quiet understanding. Arjun saw the questions in his eyes-questions he didn't ask.

For that, he was grateful. It wasn't Vinay's place to pry. What business did a royal have with the daughter of an enemy? But Draupadi was never just that...

Once, she was everything to him.

The memory rose unbidden, pulling him back to the evening when Draupadi had stepped in his life for the first time.

The hall buzzed with chatter and laughter, bright garlands and shimmering fabrics draping every pillar, every balcony.

It seemed as if the entire kingdom of Hastinapur had turned up for Jeevika's wedding.

Servants rushed around, arms full of gifts and trays of sweets, while nobles mingled in elaborate robes, casting smiles and pleasantries that felt overly sweet to Arjun.

He sat, cross-legged and scowling, in a corner of the hall, trying to make himself as small and invisible as possible.

But it seemed like fate-or maybe just his brothers-had other plans.

Bheem plopped down beside him with his signature grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"There you are, little bridegroom," he said, practically crowing. "Hiding from all the attention, are we?"

Arjun gave him a pointed glare. "I'm not hiding, and I'm definitely not a bridegroom. I'm just here for Jeevika's wedding, like everyone else."

"Right, right." Bheem leaned in conspiratorially. "And nothing to do with that other little announcement, hmm? About a certain alliance with Panchaal?"

Arjun's face scrunched up as he resisted the urge to shove Bheem away.

"You mean Jeevika's alliance? Because that's the only one happening around here."

"Oh, sure," Nakul chimed in, suddenly appearing on Arjun's other side with a smirk.

"If that's what you want to think. But rumor has it..." He trailed off, his grin widening as he looked pointedly at Sahadev, who joined the growing circle around Arjun.

Sahadev raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, trying and failing to look innocent.

"Oh, right. Haven't you heard, Jyest? Jeevika's not the only one getting paired off. Seems the future protector of Hastinapur needs a future queen!"

"I'm not getting married," Arjun said through gritted teeth, his voice dripping with annoyance. "And I don't even want a queen! I barely even want to be here!"

Bheem barked a laugh. "Oh, really? Well, everyone's saying that once the alliance is sealed, you'll be promised to the future princess of Panchaal."

Arjun huffed, crossing his arms. "I don't want a princess. And what would I even do with one?"

"Protect her, maybe?" Nakul suggested with a wink. "Be her noble warrior? Or maybe... just hold her hand when she's feeling scared?"

Arjun's expression twisted in horror. "Hold her hand?" The thought of touching a girl's hand, let alone being saddled with one as a 'bride,' made him squirm.

"I don't even want to hold your hands," he muttered, shoving Nakul's hand off his shoulder.

Bheem threw an arm around Arjun, laughing. "Oh, come on, Arjun. You'll warm up to her eventually. Who knows, maybe one day you'll even call her your 'darling'."

Arjun's cheeks burned with indignation. "Darling? You think I'd say something that ridiculous?"

Sahadev, never one to let an opportunity slip, leaned in with a grin. "I don't know, Jyest. It would be awfully romantic. Just imagine: 'Oh, my darling, let me carry your silks and jewels!'"

"Or," Nakul added, leaning in even closer, "you could carry her flowers. Or better yet, write her poetry."

Arjun looked between them in utter disbelief. "Are you all out of your minds? I'm training to be the greatest warrior in all of Hastinapur, not a flower-carrying, poetry-reciting romantic!"

"Aw, don't be so defensive," Bheem said, tousling Arjun's hair just to irk him. "Everyone knows that warriors need someone to come home to, right? It's practically tradition."

"Is it a tradition that you all gang up on me?" Arjun snapped, squirming out from under Bheem's arm and fixing his hair. "Maybe you lot should find someone to 'come home to' and leave me out of it."

"Oh, Jyest," Nakul said with a mockingly sweet tone, patting his shoulder. "When you finally see her, you'll understand. One look, and your heart will melt."

"Yeah," Bheem added with a smirk. "You'll be her knight in shining armor. And she'll look up at you with those big, starry eyes and call you her 'hero.'"

Arjun let out a strangled groan, his head dropping into his hands. "Why don't you go find some other poor kid to bother?"

"Oh, come on, don't be shy!" Nakul urged, ruffling his hair. "Think of it like a quest! A brave warrior has to face his destiny, even if that destiny is a girl."

Arjun scowled, swatting Nakul's hand away again. "Destiny? My only destiny is to be a great archer. If this girl thinks she's going to stop that, then she's got another thing coming."

Sahadev chuckled, raising his hands in surrender. "Oh, all right, all right. But remember, jyest, this is the first of many battles. And just think-if you can survive marriage, then maybe war will be easy."

Arjun snorted, giving Sahadev a flat look. "If you think I'm afraid of war, then you really don't know me. But girls? Girls are another story."

At that, his brothers erupted into laughter, their laughter echoing through the hall and catching the attention of a few curious onlookers.

But Arjun didn't care.

He was too busy plotting his escape from both his brothers and this absurd idea that he needed to be tied down with some unknown "bride."

With one last glare in their direction, he slipped away, hoping he could avoid any more 'romantic' discussions for at least the rest of the day.

Arjun's escape led him through a maze of bustling halls and chatter, his feet carrying him up the polished stone steps and toward the quiet refuge of his older sister's room.

As he approached, he could hear the soft rustle of silks and the faint hum of women's voices, mingling in the fragrant air heavy with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood.

He pushed the door open just a crack, slipping inside as quietly as he could manage.

The room was bathed in a soft golden glow from the many lamps scattered around, their light casting gentle, dancing patterns across the intricate designs on the walls.

And there, in the center, surrounded by handmaidens and elders fussing over every delicate detail, sat Jeevika, resplendent in her bridal attire.

Her sari, a deep, rich maroon edged in intricate gold embroidery, draped around her like a cascade of rubies, each thread shimmering with the firelight.

Layers of silk pooled around her, the fabric hugging her form and flowing down her sides like a river of precious stones.

Her veil rested upon her head, sheer and adorned with tiny sequins, catching the light every time she moved and casting a sparkling glow across her face.

Arjun couldn't help but stare. Jeevika's beauty was quiet yet captivating, the kind that left one both comforted and in awe.

Her skin was smooth, glowing as if kissed by the sun, while her eyes-almond-shaped and fringed with dark lashes-held a serenity that felt almost ethereal.

Her lids, dusted with a soft, rose-gold shadow, gave her a distant, dream-like quality, though her gaze was sharp and knowing.

Kohl lined her eyes, enhancing their shape and giving her an air of mystery, while a bindi, small and red like a blooming pomegranate, marked her forehead with elegance.

Her jewelry was as opulent as her attire. Gold and ruby earrings dangled from her ears, glinting with each tilt of her head, while an intricate matha patti adorned her forehead, its delicate chains framing her face like vines wrapping a precious flower.

A necklace, heavy and studded with emeralds, rested against her collarbone, its matching bangles chiming softly as she adjusted her sari's edge.

Jeevika's hair, thick and lustrous, was braided with flowers, cascading down her back like a river adorned with white jasmine blossoms.

She looked every bit the queen she was destined to be, a vision of grace and power wrapped in silks and jewels.

She caught sight of Arjun and her lips curved into a soft smile. "You've come to see your sister one last time before she becomes Panchaal's princess?"

Arjun scowled, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to shake off the remnants of his brothers' teasing.

"I came because... well... they won't leave me alone out there," he muttered, crossing his arms. He looked around at the handmaidens who were still making final adjustments to Jeevika's attire, adding final touches to her jewelry and smoothing out the fabric of her sari.

Jeevika chuckled softly, waving a hand to dismiss the maids.

"Give us a moment," she said, and they slipped out of the room, leaving her and Arjun in a hushed silence.

"So," she said, watching him with a glint of amusement in her eyes. "I hear they've found a bride for you already."

Arjun threw up his hands in exasperation. "Not you too! I don't want a bride. I don't even know what to do with one. What am I supposed to say? 'Oh hello, future bride, would you like to discuss battle strategies?'"

Jeevika laughed, a sound as light as a wind chime in the breeze.

"You won't understand it now, Arjun, but one day, perhaps you'll see that a partnership-even one you're not quite ready for-can be the greatest strength." She leaned forward, tucking a stray hair behind his ear.

"I remember when you were so little, always running after me, wanting to protect me. And look at you now, all grown up."

Arjun wrinkled his nose. "Well, you are my sister. But that doesn't mean I need... this alliance. The whole concept of marriage-it's just strange. And they think I'm supposed to be thrilled about it?"

Jeevika's eyes softened, her gaze searching his face. "Marriage isn't about thrill, Arjun. It's about companionship, trust. It's about standing beside someone, even when it's difficult." Her fingers brushed his cheek. "One day, you'll understand. And when that day comes, you'll remember this moment."

Arjun huffed, glancing away, his ears still burning from his brothers' relentless teasing. "Maybe. But right now, I think it's ridiculous."

Jeevika smiled knowingly, adjusting her veil one last time. "That's what I used to say, too. And yet, here I am."

Arjun watched her, a strange tightness settling in his chest. His sister, his constant, his confidante-she was about to step into a world where he could no longer follow, a world that would eventually belong to her alone.

Jeevika leaned down and kissed his forehead, her touch cool and comforting, the scent of jasmine filling his senses.

"Whatever you decide, Arjun, know that you are loved. And remember, no matter how annoying they may be..." she added with a teasing grin, "your brothers are here to help you."

He scrunched his nose but smiled despite himself. "I suppose I'll have to live with that."

With one last smile, Jeevika turned back to the mirror, a queen in waiting, her reflection gleaming with pride, poise, and strength.

As Arjun slipped back out of the room, he felt a renewed resolve brewing within him.

His sister might be off to another life, but he'd never stop being the protector, the archer, the one who would shield those he loved. No matter how irritating his brothers could be. . .

***

The air outside was alive with music, laughter, and the steady beat of drums echoing across the palace grounds. Arjun stood at the main entrance, squinting into the distance as the baraat—the groom’s procession—approached from Panchaal. He could feel the infectious energy in the air, hear the distant sound of conch shells blaring and horns announcing the arrival of the honored guests. His heart thumped with anticipation, yet his boyish curiosity remained unbridled, eager to see the spectacle firsthand.

As the baraat came into view, the first thing that caught Arjun’s eye was the sheer scale and grandeur of it. Horses, resplendent in embroidered saddles, trotted in, their bridles glittering with precious stones and fabrics. Musicians followed, filling the air with upbeat tunes that seemed to vibrate through the ground, fueling the excitement in everyone’s chest. At the head of the procession was the groom, Prince Ashok of Panchaal, seated on a majestic white horse, his presence regal and commanding.

Arjun’s gaze landed on Ashok, and for a moment, he forgot everything around him. Ashok was dressed in a royal sherwani of deep maroon, the color bold and powerful, accentuated with intricate gold embroidery that shimmered as the light hit it. The fabric clung to him in tailored perfection, highlighting his tall, broad-shouldered frame. His turban, a vibrant crimson, was adorned with a gold brooch, and a kalgi—an elegant, feathered crest—cascaded from it, symbolizing his princely status. Gold chains draped over his shoulders, adding a layer of grandeur to his already imposing figure, and his neck was adorned with a necklace of emeralds and rubies that caught the sunlight, casting colored reflections across his face.

As the baraat arrived at the palace gates, Arjun noticed the way Ashok carried himself—calm, composed, yet brimming with quiet confidence. Even from where he stood, Arjun could sense the dignity and poise radiating from the groom, his gaze steady and noble, with a hint of a smile curving his lips. He looked every bit the prince his sister deserved, a man who could stand by her side and command respect.

Arjun’s mother, Queen Kunti, moved forward to perform the aarti, her face glowing with pride as she welcomed the groom with the traditional lamp, circling it in front of him while murmuring prayers for blessings and prosperity. With a gentle smile, Ashok bowed his head, accepting her blessing with a gracious humility that only added to his charm. Kunti then placed a dot of vermillion on his forehead, welcoming him formally into their family.

“Welcome, Prince Ashok,” she said, her voice warm. “We are honored to receive you.”

Ashok smiled, his deep voice carrying a respectful warmth. “The honor is mine, Your Majesty. I am grateful to become part of such a noble family.”

Meanwhile, Arjun, trying to keep his composure, stood next to his brothers and observed everything intently. Yudhisthir, always the dignified elder brother, was equally formal in his greeting, while Bheem, his broad shoulders towering over most in the crowd, clasped Ashok’s arm in a friendly embrace that left both laughing. Nakul and Sahadev, the youngest, both offered Ashok warm smiles, admiring his grandeur while exchanging amused glances at Arjun’s expression.

Arjun’s sisters, meanwhile, stood to the side, their eyes twinkling with excitement as they giggled and whispered to each other, casting quick glances at Ashok, who was undeniably dashing in his groom’s attire. Arjun, still observing with a mixture of awe and skepticism, couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for his soon-to-be brother-in-law. This man, so different from himself yet possessing a powerful aura, was about to be part of their family.

At that moment, his father, King Pandu, joined the assembly, stepping forward with a dignified stride. His face bore a proud smile as he met Ashok’s gaze, bowing his head slightly in mutual respect. The two men exchanged greetings, the formality blending seamlessly with the unspoken bond of alliance and respect.

“Today is a joyous day for both our kingdoms,” King Pandu announced, his voice resonant with warmth and pride. “Today, Hastinapur and Panchaal are united not just through treaty but through family.”

The two royal families gathered closer, and Arjun was momentarily swept up in the familial warmth, the pride and joy that radiated from everyone present. The alliance between Hastinapur and Panchaal wasn’t just strategic; it was rooted in a shared understanding, a sense of loyalty, and honor that was rarely seen.

As the procession began moving toward the palace, Arjun trailed behind, still caught between admiration and the faintest prickle of envy.

Ashok was everything one expected in a prince: gracious, handsome, and poised. And though he wasn’t one to admit it out loud, Arjun knew that his sister had indeed found someone worthy of her.

But as the celebration continued, his resolve was only strengthened.

One day, he too would carve a name for himself—a name as noble and worthy as Prince Ashok’s, and he’d do it with the same pride and strength his family upheld. For now, though, he would stand beside his family, bask in the joy, and watch his sister embrace her future.

The air was thick with anticipation as Queen Riva of Panchaal stepped forward, holding the delicate hand of her daughter. All eyes turned towards them, the murmurs among the assembled guests fading to a reverent hush. Queen Riva, regal and serene, exuded a quiet pride as she guided her young daughter forward, her own beauty mirroring the subtle grace of her lineage. Yet it was the girl beside her who captured the room, the child who would one day come to be known as Draupadi.

Draupadi was but a young girl, perhaps no more than eight or nine, but her beauty was such that it seemed almost ethereal, untouched by the world’s grasp. She stood with a gentle dignity that belied her age, her dark, lustrous hair cascading in waves down her back, framing her face like a midnight waterfall. Her skin was as flawless as polished ivory, its glow both soft and resplendent under the shimmering chandeliers of the hall.

Her eyes, large and dark as the forest at dusk, shone with a mysterious intelligence. They were framed by long lashes that swept down as she lowered her gaze shyly, though a hint of curiosity danced within them, almost as if the world was her canvas, waiting to be explored. There was an undeniable warmth and depth in those eyes, a fire concealed beneath the innocence, hinting at a spirit both fierce and kind.

She was adorned in a light pink and gold lehenga, intricately embroidered with patterns of blooming lotuses and vines. Tiny jewels were woven into the fabric, catching the light with each subtle movement she made. Around her neck was a delicate necklace of pearls and rubies, resting against the graceful curve of her collarbone, accentuating her delicate frame. A small bindi adorned her forehead, and golden earrings dangled from her ears, casting tiny rainbows as they caught the light.

As she stood beside her mother, there was a timeless quality to her beauty, as if she were a figure from an ancient painting brought to life. Even in her youth, she bore the poise of a princess, her chin slightly lifted, her shoulders squared, yet there was an air of innocence that softened her royal bearing.

Queen Riva spoke, her voice rich with maternal pride. “This is my daughter, Draupadi,” she announced, her tone filled with reverence and love. “She is the jewel of Panchaal and a blessing upon our family.”

The guests were captivated, many bowing their heads in silent admiration as Draupadi’s gaze shifted around the room, taking in each face. But as her eyes settled on Arjun, a subtle flicker of curiosity sparked between them. Arjun, still young himself, felt his cheeks flush with a mixture of boyish shyness and fascination, caught off guard by the presence of this enchanting girl who would one day play such an important role in his life.

In that moment, Draupadi seemed like more than just a princess or a promised bride. She was a figure of destiny, her beauty a reflection of the powerful future that awaited her—a future woven with tales of love, honor, and undying loyalty.

As Queen Riva guided Draupadi forward, the family of Hastinapur stepped forward to welcome them with open arms. Queen Kunti, graceful and dignified, greeted them with a warm smile, her eyes softening as she looked at Draupadi.

“Oh, what a radiant young girl,” Kunti said, her voice brimming with genuine warmth. She leaned down, extending her arms to Draupadi. “Come here, my dear.”

Draupadi’s small fingers tightened around her mother’s hand for a moment, but then she stepped forward, a hint of a shy smile breaking through her composure as Kunti gently embraced her. Yudhisthir, the eldest of Arjun’s brothers, watched the scene with a smirk, leaning over to Bheem with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, would you look at that?” Yudhisthir whispered, just loud enough for Arjun to overhear. “Our little Arjun has chosen quite the bride.”

Arjun snapped out of his awestruck daze, his face burning as his brothers exchanged amused glances. “What? I—I didn’t ‘choose’ anything!” he muttered, folding his arms with a scowl.

Bheem, ever the playful giant, chuckled and nudged Arjun with his elbow. “Oh, come on, little brother,” he teased. “Look at how you’re staring. Might as well get down on one knee already!”

“Oh, stop it!” Arjun hissed, glancing around in embarrassment as a few other guests noticed his flushed face. He kept his voice low, but there was no hiding his irritation. “I was just—uh, being polite.”

“Oh, polite,” Nakul chimed in, winking at Sahadev. “That’s one way to describe it.”

Arjun felt like burying his face in his hands. His brothers were relentless. Even Sahadev, who was usually quieter, couldn’t resist grinning.

“Now, now, brothers,” Sahadev said with mock seriousness. “It’s a big moment for him. After all, they’re betrothed.” He stretched the last word, enjoying the way Arjun’s irritation deepened.

“Can you all be quiet?” Arjun snapped, narrowing his eyes at each of them. “You’re acting like I asked for this! I don’t even understand the point of all this marriage stuff.” He puffed up, crossing his arms again. “She’s just…she’s just a girl!”

“Oh, just a girl?” Yudhisthir raised an eyebrow, unable to resist one more jab. “Funny how that ‘just a girl’ has you staring like a lovestruck peacock.”

“Arjun, is something wrong?” Queen Kunti’s voice cut through their teasing, her gaze gentle but perceptive. Arjun shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he shot a quick glare at his brothers.

“Uh—no, Mother,” he managed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Everything’s fine.”

Kunti smiled knowingly, giving him a brief pat on the shoulder before returning her attention to Draupadi. She introduced her warmly to each member of the family, her words laced with affection.

“We are so grateful to have you here, Draupadi,” Kunti said, her voice softening as she held the young girl’s hands in hers. “May you find a family with us, and may our homes always welcome you.”

Draupadi smiled, dipping her head with a shy elegance. Her eyes shifted briefly to Arjun, who was still glaring daggers at his brothers, trying his best to ignore the laughter bubbling up around him. But when her gaze caught his, he faltered, his frown replaced by a hint of bashfulness.

“Look at that,” Bheem whispered to Nakul. “Our Arjun already has an audience.” They both tried to suppress their laughter, which only made Arjun’s frustration grow.

With a frustrated sigh, Arjun finally turned to them and muttered, “If you all don’t stop, I’ll make you spar with me tomorrow at dawn. And no one’s going easy.”

The brothers exchanged amused glances, undeterred. Yudhisthir patted him on the shoulder with a grin. “Fine, fine, Arjun. We’ll leave you be…for now.”

But even as they chuckled and fell silent, the teasing wasn’t lost on him. The whole situation was ridiculous. Marriage, bride, betrothal—it was all a mystery to him, and he had no interest in solving it anytime soon. Yet somehow, as he snuck a final glance at Draupadi, he couldn’t deny the strange flutter in his chest.

***

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