Third Person's POV:

"There are a hundred things that could always happen. Our future is constantly changing. Nothing here is predictable. But, there is one thing that you can count on." He whispered, his voice soft and deep.

It's husky tone had her looking up at him, she was so close to him, her beautiful lips, that he wanted nothing more than to kiss were millimeters away from him.

He could feel the warmth of his bride. The scared look however tugged on his heart.

"And what is that Arya?" She asked, her voice soft, a tretareous tear traced down her cheek. He gazed at her, cupping her cheeks.

"Our bond Panchaali.  Everything can change, everything can fall apart and go up in fire. But, we'll forever have your back. You can count on it. I know, we are still learning to be with each other, understanding and exploring our relationship, that it has a long way to go."

"But you know something? How I am so sure about us?"  He asked gazing at her, his eyes spoke way too much than his words did.

Her back pressed in the headboard, her husband's body pressed against hers firmly. Her heart jolted with sparks,  as she squirmed.

His warm touch arose a fire in her, kindled something so deep that she had never felt on anyone's touch.

For the first time, she wanted someone to touch her more.  His eyes, they pulled her in like the flame did to the moth.

"How Arya?" Her voice was soft, it came more breathier than she intended. "Because you are ours. Ours to love, to care for, to punish, to support and spoil." His voice tinted with a dark promises, making her heart pulse.

The possessiveness that tinted his words, had trembling with a different pleasure. He traced his nose in her neck, as she laid back.

Feeling the warmth of her husband, where the touch of those males felt so revoking.

Her husband's felt so right. There was firmness in his hold,  there was strength no doubt,  but it didn't hurt her. It gave her security and safety.

"You are ours. . ."

Draupadi jolted up with a gasp, taking in a shuddering breath, she could still feel the ghost of a touch of that man.

So strong, yet, so caring. The sensation of his reassuring touch on her sensitive skin, had her trembling again.

It all felt so real, his presences, his love. His fingers, and those words...

She could still remember how loved she felt in his arms, so cared and protected.

The dream disintegrated, the poisonous reality seeped in eroding her very heart, and everything that resided within her.

She tried to stomp down the storm of pain wrecking havoc in her very essence of being.

Tearing her from within. The fact that they weren't there tore her, flayed her and burnt her to her very last piece.

Wetness trekked down her cheek. "Stupid. Really stupid." She admonished herself, her voice clogging with a sharp ache; wavering.

It was really silly, how she mourned these five people that appeared in her dream every night.

They caressed her, kissed her, made promises to her, and then, they disappeared. . .

In her dreams she lived the most amazing life, a life that almost seemed like she was living a memory.

But when she woke up, she was left all alone. With a heart crushing loneliness, that stabbed her, like a dull knife slowly and agonizingly cutting her open.

"Oh god." She trembled gasping in breaths, pulling her knees to her chest, the sheer intensity of her pain crushed her, tore her, and bit right into her.

An explainable agony bloomed in her chest like a blood rose, spreading acidic burn deep into her bones, to her very core, lighting it up with a soul wrenching ache.

Confusion blanketed her mind, what is it that she is mourning? Who is this that she keeps dreaming about?

Her reasoning was a mess, the faceless males daunting her in every dream. Showing her a life she knew could never be hers.

A place where she was loved? Where she was wanted?

No.

That couldn't be possible. No one wanted her. Not her parents. Certainly not her siblings, not even her people.

She was the dark stain on the pristine white, perfect family of Royals of Viratgadh.

Burning ache spasmed in her heart, soul crippling longing pulsed with a vengeance, an old enemy that threatened to knock down her heart.

And she cried, along in the vast royal chamber, that held every comfort. Yet so cold and fake, like the perfect family. Illusions that they portrayed at every celebration.

It was all pretense. This extravagant buildings, decorations and the people that resided here.

All hollow.

All empty.

A dollhouse, a child's play castle that seemed to have come to life. And she was right at the root of it. Shackled and locked up.

Smile, for you are a royal.

A curse with fancy bows and ribbons, an attractive package on the outside, but gory and degrading from within.

So the princess of Viratgadh hid her face in her soft silk pillows, draped in sheer cloud soft quilts, yet she cried cold within.

Rivers and rivers of salty water trekking down the length of soft glowing skin.

Evidences of a suffering, that was too intimate to be seen. Yet, all the same painful.

Warm flames of extravagant perfumed candles fragranced the air. Her heart; a dried garden of sorrow and longing.

Sharp contradictions interwoven together, forming her life. All lonely and forever cursed to smile.

She was a royal, but poorer than most. Not a person to love her.

And irony was every night she dreamed about five man, of her being married in a family where she was loved and cherished.

She lived those moments every night like they were a piece of her life. But that can't be true, she was Dhriti of Viratgadh.

Not Draupadi. No matter what the men's in her dreams called her. She wasn't her.

She couldn't be, for Draupadi was loved and cherished. Not like Dhriti abandoned and forgotten.

Alive...yet not.

No matter, how much she related to Draupadi, or mentally called herself that name. She couldn't be her.

Sobs wrecked through her body, twilight lighting the room. A lone figure curled up in magnanimous bed mourning her heart out, for a life that was never hers. . .

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

"Oh! You are awake. Perfect. Get ready your highness, we have places to be. " Devyani rushed in with an army of maids trailing behind her.

Walking through the magnanimous door, that had sheer navy blue curtains fluttering around.

A huge chandelier hung in the center of the huge room, that was enough for at least twenty people to live in without any discomfort.

Thick mauve carpet covered every inch of the room, with stark white vanity with huge four circular mirrors, with most expensive diamonds encrusted around them took one area of the room.

Rubies and emeralds were engraved on the various jewelery boxes of the princess, and bangle stands made of gold and silver sat proudly.

Various expensive bangels, anklets and n number of jewelery was present in the drawers of vanity, that itself was made of silver.

Everything in the room was made from precious stones, to golds and silvers, nothing but the best for the king's most prized possession.

Devyani rushed in, the woman though in her late fifties, had a figure that most were jealous of.

Draped in a crimson saree, and matched jewelery, the head of maids walked around with an air of authority.

"Where are we going?" Draupadi asked frowning in confusion. She didn't have any plans for at least another two hours.

The maids rushed around, arranging streams of gold platters with silk covering, across her room.

Some rushed to get her clothes out, arguing and bantering over different attires. Others crowded around matching jewelleries with attires.

"Hurry your lazy asses up! We do not have time." She snapped, the maids scurried around to follow her command.

"Hey you!" She hollered at a maid, "do not forget to add all the fragrant oils, and get the sandalwood and turmeric paste ready."

The maid hurried to do Devyani's bidding.

Draupadi might as well have been the fly on a wall, with the level of attention that she was getting.

The head of maids glided across the floor ignoring the princess, her voluptuous curves swaying like flowers in wind, no wonder the king was hooked on her beauty.

A crease formed in between her brows, distorting the huge vermillion bindi. A barely veiled disgusted look crossed her sharp features.

"You have been crying Princess Dhriti." The complete lack of any sensitivity had Draupadi bristling, her hands fisted on her side.

She hated the way Devyani looked at her, like she was a vermin, an added annoyance to her long list of chores.

"God child! You have completely ruined this eyes of yours. Look at how red they are. Oh the hassles you create for me."

She strode confidently to the vanity, grumbling about spoiled princesses and their rotten behaviors.

Pulling out a number of silver bottles she marched up to Draupadi. "What are you waiting for little girl? Go have a bath."

"Well I am sorry, if my crying has inconvenienced you. You see I didn't exactly get a muhurat and planned it-"

"You would watch how you talk to me!" Fury buzzed in Devyani's words, her murky brown eyes darkening, as she gritted her teeth.

"Oh? And why would I do that?" Draupadi straightened her shoulders, her gaze clashing with the woman ahead of her.

"Because  I-"

"Devyani."

The commanding words seemed to put the entire place in a state of pause. Fear permeated the air, its pungent odor tickling the back of Draupadi's throat.

"You would mind your words." Gruff and strong, as always the king's gait screamed dominance.

"This right here is a royal ahead of you. And no one, specifically a low born as you shall speak to a royal in such a manner." King Rajendra's authoritative voice had Devyani paling.

"Yes, your highness. I was just-"

"Get out."

Hearing the king's dismissal Devyani walked out head bowed, her eyes dark with fury and cheeks lit with scarlet hue of embarrassment.

"My child." Rajendra's voice lowered to a few octaves, walking across the room to his daughter.

"Father." Draupadi greeted, her eyes solely focused on his jeweled shoes, that probably could pay of at half the kingdoms yearly rations.

The extravagant life of her father and all the expenses that he made, seemed ridiculous to her.

Her room specifically. She was put in this most expensive room, with a golden bed right in the center with rubies, diamonds, emeralds and sapphires decorating it.

Thick navy blue mattress with soft silk duvet, sheets and pillowcases. Seemed all so fake and unnecessary.

"You may look up." A pleased tone greeted her ears, her father was happy and that never really meant anything good for her.

"I am very delighted today." Terdpition washed over Draupadi, now that certainly did sounded suspicious.

It wasn't everyday the king remembered that he had a youngest daughter too. For him, his sons were everything.

Women are just additional hassel that are good enough only to be flanked around, to show their riches.

But than again, half the Aryavart had similar opinions.

"Krishna Vasudev will be attending the celebrations tonight." He announced, a giddy excitement had his words rushing out, a  grin so broad spread on his face, that Draupadi feared would split his face in half.

She winced, oh so this was another one of those royalties of Dwarka.

She had heard a lot about Krishna Vasudev Yadav, the younger prince of Dwarka. There had been a lot of stories and lores about him.

And because he was so famous, her father wanted to be on his guest list for celebrations desperately.

And as predicted he was never invited, so her father had taken a personal offense.

Who cares if they are not related, acquainted or even met. Logics like that never counted, now did they?

'After all how can someone not invite the great king of Viratgadh?' Those were the exact words her father enraged about everytime to her.

But now, he was all so excited. She barely held back an eyeroll.

And if he formed an alliance, than that would mean so much more good.

Half the people considered Krishn the ultimate royalty. What was he like? Curiousity, unfurled in her chest.

"You along with your siblings are to welcome him. I want you to dress up to your best. Show some curves be seductive, and get an invite to that upcoming celebration."

Her father's words should have shocked her or infuriated her. But they didn't. After all this years, all she felt was disappointment.

This man ahead of her was that; a disappointment. As a king, son, husband and father.

That's all he had always been. She carefully blanked her expressions, giving nothing away. There was no point.

Sometimes she really wished that someone saw her more than a pawn in their game. Just another toy to be sacrificed.

"Of course, father."

The smile he gave her almost knocked her heart out. It was radiant and proud; all so wrong.

How many times had she craved that he look at her like this? But now that he did, all she felt was hollow.

Just another doll, in the doll house.

Her gaze flitted to the crystal doll house resting on the mahogany table near her bed.

Her father followed her gaze, his eyes softened. Draupadi didn't think that was humanly possible, but apparently miracles happened.

He wrapped his hand around her shoulders. Guiding her towards the crystal doll house.

"You were born when your mother and I had got you this doll house."

A softness treaded in his naturally gruff voice, a sheen of tears blurring his grey eyes.

Her heart constricted, throat drying, she tried to swallow down the lump that suddenly seemed to appear in her throat.

"Oh how happy you had been. Dancing all around the palace announcing to everyone. It had taken the artist seven years to complete this realistic model of our palace. See there that's you."

She gazed in the doll's castle, a fragile glass doll stood in a miniature version of Draupadi's room, draped in a dark navy saree.

Her features were eerily similar too her. "Ms. Doll of the Doll Castle." He father announced, turning her around to face her.

"You are my perfect daughter. Beautiful than anyone who shall ever walk this planet. Obedient and docile."

He grinned, his mustaches curving up on the side of his face thick beard hiding half his face. The beady grey eyes were cold as silver, swirling steel of his eyes made her heart twitch with uncertainty.

He was fair and dressed in finest of robes of dark purple. Most expensive jewelry decorating his form, and extravagant was the crown on his head; proud and arrogant.

His bushy brows furrowed noticing her partly scarlet eyes. "I shall personally monitor that they prepare you accordingly. After all today you shall represent your father. You are to be nothing but perfect."

He clapped his hands, maids rushed. "Get my daughter ready, and if she appears anything thing less that perfect, I'll personally peel of your skins!"

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

Hours had passed, Draupadi was prodded, picked and poked. She was scrubbed and waxed.

Her skin was soft as a new born, supple and bouncy, creamy.  Her hair set in perfect curls around her waist, her lips painted in scarlet hues.

Dark irises holding twin golden flames, were framed in doe shaped eyes. Her natural fragrance of blue loutuses were interwoven with jasmine and sandalwood.

"Navy blue suits you."

Draupadi didn't say anything. She didn't understand her father's obsession with navy blue.

The satin lehnga hugged her waist and flarred from below the knees.

With various shades of net flarring from the navy stone that sat proudly in between her lehnga, giving the illusion of water flowing down in froms of pleated net, and ending with a border of silver intricated glistinening diamonds and other precious stones.

Her odhni was softest, and her blouse hand an illusion neckline, where it was completely made of see through material, except for the thick soft material that wrapped around her form covering her breasts and her back.

"Something is missing." Her father hummed, gazing at her, rocking back and forth on his heels with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Oh yes I know!" He grinned brightly. "Get the periwinkle blue garland."

In minutes a garland interwoven delicately was presented.

"Set her up." The king ordered, the maids rushed putting the periwinkle blue garland in her long silk tresses.

Draupadi gazed at herself in the mirror, decked in a flowing lehnga, and finest of odhni.

Jewelleries outlining her beauty. The thin gold waist chain wrapped around her creamy stomach just added to her beauty.

She looked ethereal. Regal.

Every bit of the doll that her father wanted to flaunt around.

But her eyes, they were so sad, lonely. It was almost like she was caged in this beautiful glamor.

No matter how gorgeous the girl looked from outside, Draupadi could see her trueself in those flaming orbs.

A dark fire with golden flecks, the inferno was subdued. Barely burning; barely alive. And oh so lonely.

Her father frowned, probably noticing the sad girl peaking through those eyes.

"Oh Dhriti smile. You look ugly otherwise." He snapped, eyes hardening, a cold look materializing on his face.

Draupadi swallowed the pain, shutting her eyes. She imagine locking up her emotions deep in boxes after boxes, filing them away.

Taking in a deep breath, she opened her  eyes slowly, and she grinned. A smile so radiant, so beautiful that it knocked the breaths of everyone that present, putting them in a stupor.

"Perfect! Ms. Doll of Doll Castle is ready." Her father beamed proudly, holding his hand out for her to take, she bowed in a joyous manner, stomping down her pain.

She smiled.

"Oh yes father, I am ready. Ms. Doll of the Doll Castle shall dazzle everyone." She announced brightly, enthusiasim ringing through her words.

"For no one cares for the real girl within."  She whispered the last part, heart wrenching agony ringing through the words.

Raising her head high, she walked behind her father. Regal and elegant.

Playing every bit of the role expected of her. The long train, connected to delicate crown, was see through odhni covering her head was picked up by the maids walking behind her.

Ready to Perform. . .

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

Thick scarlet roses curved around every tree present in lush lawn, giving the illusion of creepers hugging around.

Beautiful designed scarlet and dark oil lamps with silver outlined were strategically placed around the place, along with a number of torches.

People dressed in most regal and expensive attires stood around in clusters.

Krishn smiled, mischief alit in his eyes. "Kanha I don't understand why are we attending this celebration?" Balram asked, barely suppressing a yawn.

Soft crescendo of Veena and tablas offered a background music, that was being performed on the side of a huge stage, on the other side performers danced.

"Dau have patience. You will know everything soon."

"Everytime you do this. Not today, you will have-"

"There right there is the reason." Krishn pointed at the entrance, Balram turned to the huge arc that was decorated with various types of roses, that stood completely empty.

"What are you-" Dau's words died in his throat, shock's arrow paralyzing his body.

No way. . .

There was just no way in heaven. Eyes nearly bulging from his sockets, his grip loosened on the goblet that held the drink.

The goblet was saved from shattering  by the soft grass. "No way. . ."

His voice was barely above whisper, flabbergasted, he opened his mouth and shut, looking back from Draupadi to Krishn, the later beamed amused at his reaction.

"Yes way." He shot back.

"Bu. . . But how can this? I  mean. . .she. . .alive. . .dead. . .what?"

Words seemed a difficult concept for Balram, his brain nearly short circuiting from the mere concept of Draupadi being alive.

There was a hundred different things, that he had seen with Krishn, happening that were practically impossible, but this!

This right there was God father of all the miracles to ever exist. A person returning from dead?!

What the heck?!

Krishn could no longer hold it in, throwing his head back he laughed. Mirth soaring in his chest high and deep.

"The heaven is happening here?" Dau finally asked incredulously. Krishn doubled over laughing, tears streamed down the corner of his eyes, as he gasped for breaths.

"Oh god. I can't." Krishn said in between his laugh, throwing his head back chuckled after chuckles escaping his lips.

He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Breathing in deeply trying to reign in his humor.

After a minute he opened his eyes, amusement twinkling in them. Throwing his arm around his elder brother's neck, he pulled him closer.

"Dau is this reason gratifying enough for your curiousity?" He teased laughing, "Shut up! Now explain this!" Balram pointed at the princess of Viratgadh.

"Oh Dau, what is there to explain. Lovers separated by the world  as usual now we have to unite them. It's just the usual stuff."

Humor tainted the words of Krishn, who shrugged his shoulders, faking a sad expression. "Poor me have to do all the hardwork." He wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead, gazing at his brother, who looked at him exasperated.

"Don't you dare brush this off saying it's the usual stuff. People don't pop out of their graves like maiya's uncle visiting every summer."

"Did you just compare maiya's uncle to a zombie?"

Amusement sparkled brighter in the younger Yadav's words, while the elder one rolled his eyes.

"Not the time Kanha." He chided.

"True Dau, people don't pop up from graves. You are right-"

"Than what is this?! Answe me." Balram cutoff  exasperated, pointing at Draupadi for extra emphasis.

Krishn rolled his eyes, leaning against a nearby tree, siping on his juice. "The answer is simple, she never died."

A stunned silence followed his statement, Krishn could practically see the cogs turning in his brother's mind.

"Such a huge deciet against the pandavas? Oh god." Balram's face was a perfect picture of horror. His cousins' suffering was no secret.

Entire Aryavart knew how deeply the death of their empress' death had cut the emperor and his four brothers.

"Kuruvansh had lost its joy three years back. Kuruvanshi's themselves have time and again proclaimed that everything that was auspicious, right, good and fortunate had abandoned them with Draupadi."

Balram stated gravelly, tension spiking in the air. "Kuruvansh's happiness had taken the last breath with Draupadi."

"And would be reborn with Dhriti's arrival." Krishn said with a conviction that had his brother looking at him.

Krishn walked ahead, "Time has come for me to step in, to untangle this knot of grief that is tightening around the pandavas neck as a noose. And instead replace it with the ethereal knot of their marriage."

Air charged with the determination of the lord. Balram walked behind his brother, clutching his younger brother's shoulder supportively.

"And I will be there with you on every step."

"Always." Krishn agreed, his gaze fixed on his best friend who walked around, unaware of her fate.

"Time to sort the pandavas' bride's bridal crises."

Krishn chuckled with his brother, their musical laughter echoing throughout the place, joy and hope taking a new breath for Hastinapur and for Pandavas. . .

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤

🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤🤍🖤