PARTING WAYS

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The journey felt like a hazy dream for Amba, Ambika, and Amballika. Seeking solace in a moment that time refused to grant, Amballika clutched Ambika's hand, her fingers trembling with unspoken fears. Amba, the steadfast one among them, had never allowed herself to cry. Yet, as her thoughts drifted to Shalva—the man she loved with every fiber of her being—her vision blurred with unshed tears.

Ambika felt a storm of anxiety, fear, and uncertainty tighten around her heart. What fate awaited them in this unknown future? Why had they been taken like mere possessions for the crown prince, Vichitravirya? And why did a single prince require three wives? Polygamy was a common practice among royals—Ambika knew that well. But all at once? The thought unsettled her. She understood that the union was meant to secure an heir, to uphold the dynasty's legacy. Yet, no amount of reasoning could shake the feeling of injustice that weighed upon her. Did their desires, their emotions, mean nothing in the grand scheme of power and succession?

"Halt the chariot, Gangaputra."

Amba's voice rang out, sharp and unwavering, slicing through the oppressive silence. The sudden intensity of her command sent a jolt through Ambika and Amballika, their eyes widening in surprise.

The wheels screeched as the horses came to a sudden halt. Bhishma, who had remained unmoved by the turmoil of his captives, finally turned to face Amba. Her stance was unwavering, her eyes brimming with quiet defiance.

"My heart belongs to Maharaja Shalva. No matter how much you compel me to accept your prince, my heart never will. Let me return to the man I love," she declared, her voice steady, yet carrying the faintest tremor of the storm she was ready to unleash.

Bhishma inhaled deeply, his gaze settling on the determined young princess. "I apologize, Rajakumari. If you have truly given your heart to another, then it is my dharma to honor your choice. You are free to leave," he said, his voice solemn yet firm.

A victorious smirk curled on Amba's lips. She turned to her sisters, her resolve momentarily warring with the sorrow in her eyes. With trembling hands, she cupped their cheeks, committing their faces to memory.

"I know this is selfish of me— just forgive me," she whispered, her voice laced with both guilt and longing.

As she stepped down from the chariot, the wheels creaked to life once more, carrying Ambika and Amballika away—farther from her, farther into the unknown. Their hearts pounded violently, fear gnawing at their souls, for they could only imagine where fate would now lead them.

-

Hastinapura—the grand city of elephants—stood adorned like a bride, shimmering in regal splendor. Dancers swayed in graceful synchrony, the rhythmic chime of their ghungroos weaving into the symphony of celebration. Melodies soared across the vast arena, mingling with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers that rained down in joyous welcome.

Yet, amidst the revelry, Ambika and Amballika felt a storm of emotions churning within them. Awe, apprehension, and an unshakable fear coiled in their hearts, shadowing the grandeur before them. As the chariot rolled past the towering palace gates, they hastily straightened their postures, smoothing their attire—an instinctive attempt to appear composed, to mask the trepidation that threatened to surface.

The soft petals rained down upon them, a gesture of honor, yet they felt none of its warmth. Instead, an unsettling chill gripped them, for they knew that beyond the festivities lay an uncertain fate.

Rajmata Satyavati stood tall, draped in robes of soft sandalwood hues—simple yet carrying the undeniable aura of royalty. Her face remained impassive, a mask of composure she had long perfected, though a faint smile ghosted over her dark, thin lips. Her sharp, hawk-like eyes scrutinized the young princesses before her—her soon-to-be daughters-in-law.

Behind her, Vichitravirya stood adorned in gold, his jewelry glinting under the midday sun. His pale skin gleamed, reflecting the radiance of the occasion, yet his gaze was fixed solely on the two women before him. His eyes roved over them, drinking in their beauty, a silent satisfaction settling in his demeanor.

"Welcome to Hastinapura. I suppose you know the intent of your arrival here," Satyavati said, her voice smooth yet commanding. A forced laugh escaped her lips, but there was no true warmth in it.

Ambika and Ambalika offered tentative smiles, too wary to respond to the formidable woman before them. Their silence did not seem to faze Satyavati. With a slight nod, she gestured for Vichitravirya to step forward. The young prince obeyed, positioning himself before his brides as Satyavati performed the aarti, the sacred flame flickering between them—a formal welcome into their new lives.

The golden palace loomed before them, its grandeur overwhelming. As they stepped past its ornate threshold, Ambika and Amballika instinctively clung to each other, their hands intertwined in silent reassurance. Their footsteps echoed against the polished marble floors as they entered the vast Rajya Sabha, the grand royal court.

Satyavati clapped once, summoning two palace maids. They stepped forward, each carrying a golden thali draped in red velvet. Resting atop them were two exquisite chudamanis—one adorned with rubies, the other with emeralds.

"Vichitravirya, adorn them with their chudamanis," Satyavati instructed, her smile measured and controlled.

Vichitravirya stepped forward, his fingers brushing against their locks as he secured the jeweled ornaments in their hair. As if on reflex, both sisters closed their eyes, steeling themselves against the reality of their fate.

Satyavati observed them with a knowing gaze before finally speaking, her words carrying the weight of expectation.

"As daughters-in-law of the Kuru dynasty, I trust you will bring prosperity to our lineage." Her smile was curt—more of a declaration than a blessing.

-

A strong gust of wind swept through the kingdom of Sauvira and Amba's steps were relentless, her pace unyielding as she strode toward the palace. Her feet, raw and aching despite the protection of her sandals, bore the evidence of her journey—one fueled by desperation, by an unshakable resolve.

She had walked tirelessly, unstoppably, braving the merciless path that led her here. For the man she sought was no mere suitor—he was the axis around which her world now spun. A notion so foreign to the proud, untamed girl she had once been. And yet, here she was, defying fate itself to reclaim what was hers.

She stormed through the palace like a madwoman, her tresses unkempt, her eyes weary yet blazing with purpose. Despite her disheveled state, her royal bearing remained undeniable. But before she could step into the court, a line of soldiers blocked her path.

"Do you know whom you dare to halt?" Amba demanded, her voice laced with mock sternness, a wry chuckle escaping her lips. "Your king's bride. Your future queen."

Without waiting for a response, she brushed past them, striding into the court with unshaken resolve.

Shalva's gaze landed on her, but the warmth she once knew in his eyes had vanished. In its place, something colder, something distant—something that made her heart clench with foreboding.

"My love, I returned just for you," Amba's voice trembled with desperate yearning as she approached him .Her eyes drifted to his frame, where the marks of his duel with Bhishma still lingered as her hand outstretched to caress his cheek, the touch that had once been their silent promise.

But before her fingers could reach him, he seized her wrist, holding it firmly in place. Her eyes searched his face, bewildered, questioning. The warmth she had once known in him seemed to have evaporated, replaced by an unfamiliar chill.

"But I no longer desire you, Amba." His words cut through the air, cold and final. "You have been touched by another man, Bhisma, and he had won you rightfully," Shalva said, his gaze locking with hers, his voice heavy with bitterness.

"But you know that was against my will, Shalva," Amba pleaded, her voice breaking. "I know you are enraged, but... but don't break us."

Tears welled up in her eyes, tracing silent paths down her cheeks, as her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

"But I won't accept a woman touched by another man, Devi. Forgive me." His words came out with a detached finality, and without another glance, he turned and walked away, as though she were nothing more than a stranger.

Amba collapsed to the ground, her body trembling, her heart shattered beyond repair.

Oh, such was fate's cruel game, where love withers in the face of pride and time.

-

Here is the third chapter!

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