Bheem had always been his family's protector. 

From very early on, since he had gained the ability of cognitive comprehension, he had understood where his strength lay. His massive physicality and immense power having begotten from the mighty Lord of the Winds, Pawandeva himself, had earned him that role.

Bheem knew that he had not, Yudhishtir's righteousness, Arjun's skill, Nakul's charm or Sahadev's wisdom. But he had the sheer brute strength which could rival Indra's divine mount, Airavata and the monstrous strength of the asura, Kumbhakarna, combined. 

But people have always looked at the Pandavas as caricatures of their best qualities, which has in turn overshadowed the other characteristics that they do possess. 

No one knew the gentle Yudhishtir, concocted the most hilariously creative and derogatory curses and had no impulse control whilst spitting them, all the while possessing the most gory imagination of the brothers. 

No one knew the charming Arjun, when pissed off could be the most destructive of the brothers and he had the propensity of giving people whiplash through a positively terrifying scathing sarcasm when provoked enough. 

No one knew the jocular Nakul, could move a stone statue to tears with his sudden bouts of depressively poetic proses and could outmatch all of them, including Arjun in swordplay. 

No one knew the mild mannered Sahadev, had the most vicious streak of vindictiveness in him and could defeat even Yudhishtir in philosophical debates, if involved enough. 

And no one was aware of the fact that Bheem had an uncanny amount of perceptive genius.

They had all only focussed on his untameable brawn and had declared him brainless. 

He could look at the situation in a variety of ways, something which may escape the notice of his 'master in warcraft' of a brother as well.

Only the Pandavas knew how many times it had been the youngest Vayuputra, whose razor sharp perceptive powers have saved them from certain disaster. 

Both in battle and in life. 

For the longest time during his childhood, Bheem had moved uncaring of his own purpose, happy and cheerful in their little paradise, atop the forested hills of Shatasringa. 

Him and his brothers had had the protective shadow of their father, at that time. 

Bheem remembered the time when he had been chasing Arjun, just of seven summers then, who had stolen all his mangoes and had made a brave run for it. He remembered how the nimble runt had climbed up a tree and sat on the highest branch to hide from his enraged older sibling. 

The powerful second pandava had started shaking the massive trunk of the same tree in an effort to make the former, drop his loot but instead, Arjun had slipped off from the branch. 

Bheem remembered the bolt of paralyzing terror which those few seconds had felt like. He had been afraid the latter would break his neck and die if he hits the ground. But, luckily he had been dexterous enough and Bheem had found himself with an armful of his gangly brother, the next second. 

Arjun had been trembling like a leaf, evidently terrified out of his mind and Bheem had embraced the life out of him, showering kisses all over his little face and thick curls, muttering consolations like a fervent prayer. 

"Its okay, its okay, you are okay, I will not let you fall. I will not let you get hurt. Phalgun.. hush hush..", he had breathed in between his flurry of kisses. 

It had been long since, Bheem had realised that his mischievous brother had been laughing at the crook of his neck and not crying like he had initially thought. 

"Your face... huff.. Bhrata Bheem. You looked like you had seen a... ghost!", the brat had said in between giggles and chortles. 

"You! Wait you.."

And the chase had renewed with vigour. 

Then their father's protection had been uprooted. 

Violently.

And so had they. 

Like weeds from a garden, torn and thrown away when their usefulness expired.

Bheem had gathered his three younger siblings in his much bigger arms, leant against his Jyeshta who had taken on the monumental task of trying to feed their grieving mother and promised himself, that he would be the infallible wall that would fortify the Pandavas forever. 

But little did he know, what future and fate's cruel games had in store for him and his brothers. 

Bheem remembered the time when he had been woken awake from his slumber, in Drona's gurukula and had come out of their thatched hut, only to see, his dark skinned sibling almost mixed with the inky night sky. 

The sharp silhouette of a gleaming bow and the edge of an arrow, visible just. 

Practising to shoot in the dark. 

Practising to shoot blind. 

His brother had been almost possessed with this incomprehensible need to be the best at every warfare skill that their guru had taught and then some. 

"Why? Is your need for fame that strong?", the second Pandava had asked perturbed and a little scared. 

He had been afraid, destiny will take his sibling away in a current faster than he could catch up to.

"I need to be the best", Arjun had muttered feverishly. 

"Why anuj?", Bheem had asked again. 

"Because the next time, Duryodhan and his cohorts even think about harming any of you, my face will make them back off. Not only our wily cousins but everyone. No one will dare to even look at you or Jyesht, or Nakul and Sahadev, sideways. Nor men, nor monsters, rakshasas, daityas, asuras, yakshas, gandharvas.. or even the very Gods. No one!"

Arjun had resumed shooting the arrows with a deranged speed, almost all of them hitting the mark. But Bheem knew, the son of Indra wouldn't stop unless every single one of them hit the bullseye. 

He had seen the dark blood dripping greedily from the scars made on his little Phalgun's once butter soft palms. 

Bright and rank and absolutely depraved against the wet string of his wooden bow. 

Bheema had cried himself to sleep that night. 

He had finally realised that however strong he becomes, however much he tries, he alone, would not be able to stop the ravages of time and tide. 

However hard he had prayed for his soft hearted brother to retain the innocence on his beautiful face, fate had laughed equally hard on his. 

Bheem remembered the slightly baffled expression on Arjun's youthful face when Karna had spat proud and raucously of his own abilities and promised to draw blood. He remembered feeling that bubbling, boiling magma of fury when his little brother had flinched almost invisibly at the foul stench of hatred emanating from the newly crowned king of Anga. 

Then he had seen, his chiselled features hardening. 

Like an unpolished diamond. Like the edge of his own blade. 

An enmity which will write itself down in the annals of history as the greatest contention between brothers of blood but not known at all. 

Bheem remembered the lost expression on Arjun's face when they had escaped Lakshagriha by a hair's breath. 

"But why would they conspire to kill Mata? What perceived wrong has she done, to them?", he had asked him, late one night as they kept watch over their sleeping family - yet again on grass and hay. 

Bheem had shaken his head and thrown a heavy arm over his younger brother's now strangely muscled shoulders and changed the topic of conversation. 

Bheem remembered how Arjun's prussian eyes, bright in excitement and a little shy with anticipation had shuttered like a dull moss of silver and his hand had tightened against the bow, while the other one which had been entangled with that of the dusky damsel of Panchala had loosened and dropped. 

"Dharma has to be followed beyond personal attachments. It's meaning cannot be changed based on our interpretations influenced by emotional ties."

Arjun had declared stone faced, unheeding to his family's continuous tearful entreaties for him to stay. Yudhishtir's face had crumpled and Bheem had sensed his older brother's heart breaking soundly like someone had smashed a glass structure against the wall. 

Bheem had been so proud of his little brother. 

'Twelve years!'

Yet his own heart had screamed in agony as Arjun touched his forehead to the other's toes in his usual reverence. 

"You had always been too bright to be kept confined within the walls of one city. Go forth and find your purpose brother mine, and let us learn the value of patience meanwhile", Yudhishtir had blessed him tremulously, looking like he was physically trying to hold himself back from pouncing on his younger sibling and tying him to some pillar. 

Arjun had walked out then and for twelve years Bheem had tossed and turned in his bed, his mind constantly restless, unable to even enjoy the propensity for his subtle gourmet tastes. It was like someone had torn apart a part of him and stashed it somewhere unreachable. 

Bheem clearly remembered the first few months when everyone had been near inconsolable. Their mother had barely eaten or slept, constantly muttering prayers under her breath. Yudhishtir had walked around like a corpse and Nakul and Sahadev had retreated into a cocoon where no one except the twins were allowed to enter. 

Not even their older brothers. 

His fiery Draupadi had leant against the gold gilded gates of their palace often. Her large, beautiful eyes searching and searching into the far distance, the ever glowing fire under her skin simmering like a dying hearth instead of the conflagration, him and his brothers had always loved and were eager to get burnt in. 

Bheem had given his massive shoulders to everyone to cry upon and lament, yet it was only in the night when he could let himself sob into the pillow as the thoughts about his Phalgun's tremendous destiny pulling him away from them farther and farther still, stood like an irrevocable reality. 

Bheem remembered Arjun transforming into half of what he was. And half a woman. He remembered wanting to tear that arrogant apsara into two for the humiliation she had wrought on his brother because he had rejected her advances. 

"I still can't believe, you mother zoned the most beautiful apsara of Indra's court", he had teased Arjun unrepentantly though, letting him ease into his strangely new avatar, the way only an older brother can. 

Panchali had glared at him and then proceeded to throw her long hair, open and wavy to her back, eyes twinkling in mischief. 

"At least now, you can share half my burden of those leering eyes. Eunuch or not, you do look pretty fetching", she had drawled making Arjun splutter and turn an ugly shade of sandstone. 

Bheem had laughed and patted his brother's shoulder consolingly. 

But when a courtier from Matsya had decided to get a little too handy with the oddly beautiful and enigmatic Brihannala, he had quite literally disappeared the very next day. 

"I could take care of it, you know. Only my physicality has changed, not my skill or strength. Also we shouldn't drag so much attention to ourselves. Duryodhan lies in wait like a snake", Brihannala had whispered sharply to Vallabha who had only looked bored as he had stirred the massive pot of payasam. 

"I know. Doesn't change the fact that you are still mine to protect just like you always have been, all your life, manhood notwithstanding", Vallabha had replied quietly. 

Brihannala had looked a little startled but then his eyes had softened and he had squeezed the royal cook's free hand for a second before sliding away, quite literally like a cat in the shadows. Then the brat had later gone onto defeat the entire Kuru army, single handed only to give a Cheshire grin to Bheem, when their eyes had met in Virata's court. 

How proud, he was of his little brother.

Bheem remembered the great war like one remembers a particularly vivid childhood memory that they would rather forget. But it still stings like an annoying prick at the sole of your foot as you walk. 

He remembered, his nephews and sons being killed, he remembered his friends and family dying, he remembered Arjun withdrawing further and further away, his smiles becoming strained, his words almost non existent, his face nearly cadaverous. 

"You let a child enter the world's deadliest formation! And then couldn't even save him? Fie on you all! You so called maharathis! Had I known I was fighting with such cowards, I would have never left my boy in your care!"

Bheem remembered shrinking away in agony and fear, as his sibling raved like a demented creature. Then had felt his heart explode in pain, as later Arjun had collapsed on the ground, hugging a blood soaked Abhimanyu to his chest like he could will him into life somehow. 

"I will kill Jayadratha by sundown tomorrow or will enter the flames myself!"

No amount of reassurance from the dark lord himself had been enough to soothe the sheer petrifaction which had terrorised Bheem's heart on hearing Arjun's oath. He had wanted to whack him so hard at the moment, but something on his brother's face had stopped him from commenting. 

He remembered feeling a keen sense of restless horror which overpowered the delight when Arjun annihilated the Kaurava troops the following day. 

He remembered seeing his sibling covered in blood, a manic expression in his predatory gaze, his arrows having transformed into the literal shards of Yama's spear. 

His little brother who had once cried because he had accidently ripped a feather off a bird had rained such hellfire over the enemy troops that he had single handedly wiped out seven akshaunis. 

Defeating everyone who dared come across him, killing and ravaging like the hounds of Hell were riding in him. 

He had been unrecognizable to Bheem that day.

His kind hearted, compassionate, full of love and light, little brother. 

Turned into a vicious machine of death and destruction. 

"Indra's Vasavi Shakti could have killed Arjun. I had to shield him somehow. Ghatotkacha's sacrifice will not go in vain, Vrikodhara. He will be immortalised through the ages, the only Rakshasa, worshipped"

Krishna's sombre words after his rather deplorable dance of cheer, had done little to console Bheem. But he could hardly blame the Lord of the Universe for his machinations, cruel as some of them have been. 

He remembered seeing Arjun's face blanch into a pasty carcass before a strangely greenish shade sprung at the sides. He had stood up staggering from where he had been kneeling on the ground, beside Yudhishtir as they had gathered around his brave son's body. 

Krishna had resolutely not looked at his Partha for the first time maybe, as the latter had thrown a hand across his mouth, bent from the middle. 

Almost gagging with the realisation. 

"Excuse me", he had whispered and almost fled from there. 

Bheem had felt a spark of loathing for his younger sibling for the first time in his life and had hated himself for it too. 

Then the war had ended and their mother had revealed her darkest secret. 

Bheem hadn't really known what to feel. He had been slightly remorseful of the fact that he had insulted the king of Anga on many occasions and rather meanly to be brutally honest, but he couldn't still feel any modicum of sympathy or respect for him.

Karna had gotten what he had deserved. 

His fate may have snatched one mother away from him but that could not make up for the sheer level of horrendous sins which he had committed under the umbrella of supposed slight and Duryodhan's influence. 

Yudhishtir, as expected had been inconsolable and infuriated with Kunti. 

But Arjun, who had actually killed him, had been unreadable. For the first time in his life, Bheem hadn't known what his brother had been thinking. 

But only, that it may have been the last straw which had broken the proverbial camel's back. 

Arjun had distanced himself from them all after that. 

Immersed in his own world, henceforth. 

Only Vrishketu had become his sole focus, of late. Maybe it was a way to alleviate some of that unnecessary guilt or maybe he couldn't bear to look at familiar faces anymore. 

Whatever had the reason been, Bheem had been at the very end of his patience. And that had boiled over and exploded like a nasty bomb over Arjun's head. He had still been in that red haze of righteous fury this morning when his brother had approached him nervously, yet again. 

Little did he know that it would be for the last time.

----------------------------

At the battlefield of Manipur, at present time

The blast radius of the Ramabana had been so massive that Bheem had been sure, half of Manipur must have been blown away. He had hardly noticed the magnified greenish shields which had shimmered into existence like a barricade in front of him and Vrishketu. 

No, he had still been reeling from Arjun dropping his Gandhiv on the ground. 

It had felt like that accursed Bhagadutta's elephant which had wreaked havoc on their forces, all those years ago had magically been revived and was crushed his chest under its massive weight. 

"He has the Pashupatastra! Why isn't he.. why isn't he using it? Uncle!", Vrishketu's bewildered babbling had ended in a panicked shout as the latter had tried calling Arjun at that very moment. 

As if his scratchy voice could have carried across the blistering noise created by the divine weapon of Lord Rama. 

"Arjun!", Bheem had been snapped out of his horrified stupor and had screamed alongside his nephew. 

His shout had been loud enough to cut across the pandemonium of the Kurukshetra during the fourteenth day to reach the ears of Yudhishtir. Yet today it seemed to get absorbed by some unnerving power right before reaching his younger brother. 

"Kakashree!"

Arjun would have rejoiced hearing his recalcitrant nephew address him as his uncle with no rancour in his tone for the first time since they had met, had he only bothered to hear him.

"Arj--"

Bheem's shout had cut off the moment he had seen the blinding column of light, the deadly astra hit his brother, straight in the centre of his chest. He could barely see the way the other's athletic body had caved inside in an oddly graceful move, as the radiation from the impact had thrown the former off his feet, instantly.

He had hit his head against the wheel of a chariot standing behind and for a second his vision had whited out in pain. 

The dust had settled only a moment after, the shockwave creating an earthquake which had gone through the battlefield with lightning rapidity. 

Bheem could barely hear anything through the loud ringing in his ears yet he scrambled off from the ground, panic clawing his insides like a wolf ripping into its prey. He didn't even wait to gain a modicum of balance and ripped open the humongous iron chains off his body as easy as tearing paper before barely giving a glance at his fallen nephew beside him, and then taking off. 

Towards his brother. 

He didn't see the stranger, a woman who had reached there first. 

He didn't care. 

"Phalgun!", he screamed again, terror and shock making his voice quaver. 

Bheem almost toppled over Arjun as he found his feet coming to an abrupt stop, when he was right beside. 

'Arjun...'

He has never seen his brother like this. 

His long limns akimbo, sprawled carelessly on the ground, the beautiful swarthy complexion of his skin stained in a muted nauseating grey, the still thick silver streaked raven curls lying limp over his face and the ground. 

His face..

His once brilliantly glowing irises were half open, the sapphiric shade of the pupils blown away in a scary opaque silver, hooded in a strange expression which seemed neither frightened nor befuddled. 

In fact, there was a barest hint of the beginning of a smile on his slightly parted lips, a stream of blood having dripped down from the corner over the side of his face, making a loathsome contrast with the ashen pallor of his skin. 

A random though struck Bheem as he remembered how his brother's cheeks would dimple, once upon a time, when he would smile so wide, his face would almost split open. 

Now, it was a macabre parody of that much beloved countenance. 

Arjun looked so still, like a meticulously drawn painting, a beautiful tragedy mixed in every line of the brush which brought forth the entire picture. 

Handsome in death as he always has been, in life. 

"It was you who stopped me from killing that wretch Jayadratha, that day. Had you had the gumption of going against our Jyestha for once, had you not given credence to your godawful morality for one damn time, then your son, perhaps would've been alive."

"You killed him Arjun, not us."

"It was my son who was sacrificed to save your hide from the Vasavi Shakti. You have Ghatotkacha's blood on your hands as well. Maybe grieve for him too when you find time from your deluge into self pity."

Bheem's knees gave way and he fell to the ground in an undignified heap, the blood which had pooled around Arjun's fallen body, splashed sickeningly on his blue dhoti. 

"Arjun! Arjun what are you doing? Get up!", Bheem snapped.

He caught one of his cold limp hands and squeezed as hard as he could, almost breaking his fingers. 

"Don't be an idiot! What the hell is this? Get the fuck up, right now! And it is an order!"

But his brother didn't leap up and start laughing like he had expected, teasing him about scaring the life out of him, thus. 

"Phalgun, now I am getting angry. I will break your leg and you will be forced into complete bedrest for the next three months and we know how much you like that. Panchali, Subhadra or Uttara.. no one will be able to save you."

Arjun barely moved and the fist around Bheem's heart started clenching so hard that for a moment that he thought he saw purple spots dancing in front of his eyes. 

"Arjun please...", this time it was a whisper.

Please...

Oh God no! No no no! Please no! Not this God. Not this. Anything but this.

Bheem could hear the soft sobs the woman was letting out, her face hidden against his brother's leg, her sharp finger nails digging into the white fabric. 

He didn't care. 

"Arjun.. alright fine, I am sorry. I am sorry. This is what you wanted to hear right? I am fucking sorry. Now get up!"

His words had gotten all muddled up and his eyes were stinging annoyingly. There was a mountain stuck in his throat and Bhagadutta's pachyderm was still stomping on his chest, cracking his ribs one by one. 

It was just like seeing his Ghatotkacha's dead body, like seeing his Sutasoma's massacred remains. 

But worse. 

Oh, infinitely worse.

Bheem could barely sense Vrishketu standing beside him. Had he looked up, he would've seen the undaunted son of Karna trembling like he has been electrocuted. 

"Phalgun please..", he whispered again but to no avail. 

Is this what that vile Dusashana had felt when he had ripped his chest open and stuck his hand inside to grab a fistful of his blood which had barely passed his teeth?

Bheem lifted Arjun's head tenderly in his lap and stroked his curls like he used to do when he was still a child, eager for his older brother's affection. He bent down and kissed the u-shaped tilak on his forehead, smearing the bow and arrow a little with his lips. 

It felt like someone had split his soul and snatched away a vital piece of it. 

'My little brother', his heart howled till it cracked open like an egg. 

Bheem had never quite known grief this vicious, this burning, tearing, vengeful anguish which threatened to swallow him whole. For the first time, he felt shame curdling his insides at the thought of his delight when he had seen Duryodhan cry over his younger brother's corpses. 

Was this his punishment now?

But he wouldn't survive this.

He couldn't. 

"Oh my god!"

Vrishketu's quivering whisper served to break the tenuous control he had exercised over himself till then. 

And break it did with a sound so strong that it almost raised a tornado in that deathly still battleground. 

Bheem threw his head back and roared. 

To be continued

A/N:- I love exploring the Pandavas relationship with one another and Bheema - Arjuna has always been one of my favourites. Bheem's voice was tough to write but I enjoyed it greatly. So I may have gotten a little carried away. Hehe 

Anyhoo, that Shatasringa scene is inspired by one of my favourite author's book here on wattpad. I adored it so I kinda borrowed it. Hehe..

Also, tissues anyone?