"Watch out!"

Iravan grabbed Yaudheya by the bicep and almost flung him to the ground in an attempt to push him out of the way of an advancing javelin. The fair skinned son of Devika tumbled at the side and winced as the diamond studded spear grazed the side of his neck and hacked off the flagstaff of an abandoned chariot stationed behind him. 

"Where is your head at?", the prince of the Kauravya Nagas snapped at the prince of Sivi in a way completely uncharacteristic to his usual mild manner. 

"Sorry. I was... distracted", Yaudheya grumbled while picking up his discarded sword and rotated his strained shoulder almost violently till a painful pop resulted in it sliding back into place. 

"Clearly!"

Iravan shot back harshly while catching the next stray arrow which had been shot right at his face and plucked it out of the air like it was a shed feather of a bird and not a fired missile. 

The second son of Yudhishtir gave his cousin a side eye while cutting down their current enemy, one of their many nameless cousins from the other side, their grimy faces mixed into a sea made of the anonymous hordes of the Kaurava children.

Yaudheya had no idea what the poor sod's name was neither will he remember his face, most likely. They might all be forgotten at the end. 

Another nameless, faceless casualty at the altar of a war fought for divine justice.

All for his so called uncle's insatiable greed. 

"Are you alright brother? I am sorry for being..so short. I am just..."

Iravan's voice had mellowed down into a quietly regretful whisper as the taller man's greenish gold eyes roved over his bloodied frame in a concerned glance. Yaudheya felt warmth pool inside the priorly empty pit formed inside his stomach as his older cousin's handsome face softened against the loathsome contrast drawn with the speckles of blood marring his pallid complexion. 

"It is alright, bhratashree. We are all justifiably high strung. And thanks to you, I still have my head on my shoulders. A minute distraction and I might have very well been sent to Yama's abode."

"Hush, that will never happen. Not as long as I have something to say about it."

They exchanged a gentle smile and one moment of peaceful camaraderie amidst the roaring backdrop of the relentless battle. The sun was above head and the sweat mixed with the million wounds over Yudhishtir's second born was making him grimace in extreme discomfort. 

He wasn't used to the constant adrenaline soaked trainwreck that a warrior's body was subjected to become. 

He had always been rather inclined to remain sequestered with his books. 

'Fat lot of good, that did you', Yaudheya's brain snarled at him in discontent. 

The prince apparent of Sivi knew he should have spent more time at the arena. Specially with the flying rumours of an impending civil war that had been rampant since he had stayed back with his mother for the duration of his father and uncles' exile. 

"No but seriously, what happened? You seem very preoccupied."

Iravan's question brought him back to the present and he turned to squint into the dusty distance. Trying in vain, to get a glimpse of Yudhishtir's flagstaff amidst the multihued flags fluttering in the maelstrom around them. 

"I am.. apprehensive. As per the spies, Acharya Drona has been attacking the King relentlessly. I don't know how long will he be able to hold on before--"

"Kakashree Bheem and Yuyudhana Satyaki are protecting the King and holding against the onslaught pretty well. Rajkumara Dhrishtadyumna and Abhimanyu are stationed very close to them and are forcing Ashwatthama to back off continually. Maharatha Drupada and Virata are also on close standby. And--"

"I know, I know brother--- but with Kakashree Arjun absent from his side, I don't know how long the Acharya could be held off. And--"

"Yaudheya.."

He turned to look at his older cousin's calm eyes and found his anxiety settling down immediately as was the latter's inexplicable effect on everyone around. 

The son of Uloopi had this magnificent tendency to absorb any discontent in the air like a damned suction pump. 

It had made the children of the Pandavas very fond of and very fascinated with the elusive Naga prince. 

"Have faith. I trust my father. He would never have left the King's side, if he thought that Bharadwajaputra would have been capable of taking him hostage. We have a solid plan. Let us stick to it", Iravan stated before straightening the kinks of his neck with a dexterous snap. 

Yaudheya wasn't completely convinced but he also had immense faith in his uncle's strategy.

The son of Devika had learnt the art of strategizing from their Supreme Commander himself and Prince Dhrishtadyumna was legendary in constructing battleplans. And it was only Arjun, to whom the crown prince of Panchala deferred; as far as tactical manoeuvring was concerned at least. 

It would be stupid to doubt Savyasachi. 

The man had single handedly routed the Kaurava army after all. 

But he was a son after all; and not very good at keeping a level head where warfare or the risk of physical harm to his loved ones were concerned. 

He was just not wired that way. 

Like the rest of his brothers. 

And uncles. 

Yet Yaudheya had no choice but to keep fighting. 

___________________

Iravan knew he was being unduly snipy with everyone today. It was distasteful behaviour and his mother would have been so disappointed with him had she seen him taking out his temper on their troops or his hapless cousin thus. 

But he just couldn't let go of the fact that his prey was snatched from right under his nose, that also by his older cousin nonetheless. 

Ghatotkacha had materialized out of thin air, right beside him, when he was in the thick of battle against the devilish Alambusha. Bheema's oldest had goaded and taunted the rakshasa chief till the latter had all but pounced on the former and left their battle, midway. 

The infamous rivalry between the Nagas and the Rakshasas was an ill kept secret and Iravan had been all but ready to tear into the nasty ruler's throat; the red rage of a near ancient derision having taken control of his otherwise cool and collected senses. 

"Leave him to me brother!"

Ghatotkacha with his massive twelve feet frame and inky charcoal skin had interrupted the Naga prince effectively and clashed against the equally gigantic Alambusha by then. 

"But..I was.."

Iravan had spluttered utterly blindsided but to no avail as the two rakshasas had already vanished from sight, leaving behind the rank fumes of the illusions used specifically by the daitya clans. 

He would deny it till he was blue in the face but Iravan had very petulantly stomped his feet back to his chariot, like a tantrum throwing child, to find another hapless enemy to take his burning anger out instead of behaving like the matured adult as he was supposed to. 

It was then he had saved Yaudheya from getting his throat slashed open by the nick of a hair's breadth. And then had snapped at the poor kid for no fault of his own. At least not completely.

The prince of Sivi had only been scared. 

It had been very overt on his pleasantly chiselled face. 

The rage inside Arjuna's oldest had melted into regret and a little affection for his cousin and he had consoled the latter in the best way possible. He wasn't bothered about the venerable master of the Kurus today. His spies had been giving him good news since the morning. 

Except a few hiccups along the way, the plan was coming together beautifully.

Hopefully they'll be rid of all the major players in the opposite team, soon enough. 

Because God knew he was exhausted of the constant fighting. 

And it had been just ten days still. 

It was a sudden shift in the air which was picked up by Iravan's adrenaline spiked hyperactive senses and he just about narrowly managed to identify the scent. It was almost overlapped by the stench of rotting bodies and the cloying sweet coppery odour of blood but it was unmistakable. 

The serpent prince had been brought up in the underworld. 

The domain of the Nagas. 

Under the tutelage of one of their most powerful sorceress till date and could recognize and identify the tribes of the Naga people by a hint of the scent of their venom itself.

This one was of a dark oily flavour; the stench of dark magic mixed with the rusted almost tangerine tang of the most bitter and acidic concoction possible. 

This was the overpowering rank stink of hubris amalgamated into the noxious fumes of a simmering rage trapped in the bubbles of a lethal venom; the deadliest poison created by the immortals of the underworld. 

One drop of this venom was strong enough to burn a full grown rhineceros into ashes. 

A single spray and it could kill hundreds of men. 

Takshaka was in the battlefield. 

And as if on cue, Iravan saw the simmering distortion in the air giving way to a humongous slithering shape in front of him. 

The fangs of the serpent was large enough to rip their strongest elephant corps into smithereens and the his toughened scaly skin was a thick inky black, marred with massive splotches of maroon red. There was no glazing glimmer on his otherwise rough body and it resembled the gaping maw of a collapsing star, lightyears away, amidst an empty galaxy. 

The Nagamani sat proud and shimmering like a gigantic blood red diamond on his Cobra-esque hood and his beady eyes were rimmed crimson and felt like staring into the bottomless abyss of the deepest pit of Naraka. 

The spittle of the bitter ashy venom which splattered on the battlefield of the Kurukshetra as one of the most virulent and powerful King of the Naga chiefdoms hissed, made the astounded soldiers on both sides scream in terror and back away from the massive, almost eighty feet tall body of the semi celestial snake. 

"Takshaka! What are you doing here? The immortals are not allowed to participate in the war of humans!"

Iravan yelled over his frantically scrambling troops as the air started to turn heavy with the essence of the poison emanating from the snake king. 

"Is that so little serpent. Then pray tell what are you and your dear cousin, Ghatotkacha doing here?", Takshaka's hissed mockingly.

"We are half human and we are invited by virtue of being family to the Pandavas. The rules--"

"The rules have been broken long before I entered the battlefield! And even if that doesn't appease the so called upholders of the rules--- I will have you know, I am invited to the fight by virtue of being family too...", the snake king snarled and his massive coiling lower end kept exponentially increasing in size. 

Iravan could see innumerable, sharp crimson spikes starting to emerge out of Takshaka's body in tandem. The men around them had started coughing and retching uncontrollably. The air had already been poisoned for some metres at least.

He started to say something else when Takshaka hissed long and piercing, his eyes narrowing like hard granite slits swimming in blood and Iravan knew, conversing on the principles of the righteousness of this battle, would prove futile. 

Takshaka was on warpath. 

For personal revenge against the deeds of the fire god, which was carried out by Arjun and Krishna. 

And he also knew who was responsible for this little wrench thrown in the Pandavas' plans. 

'Gandharaj Shakuni! Up to your wicked games as usual, dear granduncle, aren't you?'

Iravan knew there was only one way by which they might get a fair chance of coming out of Talshaka's fury relatively unscathed. 

He sprinted. 

Towards the thick of the battlefield.

Right at the black skinned Naga. 

"Get back! Move away! Run as fast as you can! Get back! get back!"

The son of Arjuna screamed at both the sides, gesticulating wildly with his arms, as he narrowly avoided getting crushed by the lashing tail of the maddened serpent king. 

"Arjun has taken everything from me and today he will pay the price! Vengeance will finally be mine!"

Takshaka spat and charged viciously, right at the prince of the Kauravya Nagas with a lightening speed, jaw open wide and fangs sparkling dangerously in the bloodied sunlight. 

"My prince!"

His lieutenant's panicked cry rung in his mind as Iravan leapt off to dodge a shower of burning venom and sidestepped a lashing on the ground, his typical pale skin starting to transform into a scaly bluish green shade. 

"Take word to my father! Now! I will keep Takshaka busy!"

Iravan barked, relaying his clipped orders telepathically. 

"The son of Indra has entered the net of Surya, my prince. He cannot come out! Get out of there! We need reinforcements!"

Iravan felt his bones starting to mould and crunch as he threw himself back into a sickening curve, defying the normal anatomical limitations of his mortal body. The electric blue scales dotting his aquamarine complexion straightened into lightening strips of a greenish gold over his rapidly scaling skin. 

"I have to transform Vittal. There is no other way. Send word to the Queen! Now."

"My prince--"

"Now!"

The telepathic connection was snapped before his trusted second in command, Vittal could say anything else and amidst further yelling and a deafening din of armours clashing and weapons banging against each other, Iravan turned into his serpent form completely.

Utterly breaking another painstakingly put, rule of the war. 

Not that anyone was bothered about the rules, anymore.

Takshaka's eyes gleamed in a feverish scarlet black and it almost seemed like the king of the serpents was amused. 

Even in his enlarged form, at the peak of his power, both celestial and mortal, Iravan was half the size of the older Naga; his pair of pearl white fangs, a fourth of Takshaka's giantlike incisors. 

"And you hope to stop me, little snake?", the older Naga hissed jeeringly. 

"Famous last words?", Iravan hissed back tauntingly. 

Takshaka definitely grinned then and in a split second had attacked the smaller prussian striped gold green serpent, clashing with the other's body hard enough to create a small dust storm which very nearly blinded everyone within a ten mile radius. 

With Arjun locked in a deadly combat with the King of Anga, bound to a fight till death, Ghatotkacha engaged with the mighty Alambusha and the majority of the Pandava army protecting Yudhishtir against a raging Dronacharya, he was left with no backup at all.

Iravan was under no delusions that he will come out of this fight alive, he can only hope to deflect the inevitable for the time required for Arjun to arrive. 

The gods of fate have spoken again and this time, it was the oldest son of Arjun, trapped in their capricious mire. 

___________________

Arjun grinned maniacally as Karna growled aloud in overt frustration as the latter's bowstring snapped into half for the umpteenth time and he had to shield himself from the ensuing volley of arrows by jumping around the demarcated ground which had locked them in a burning ring. 

The two super warriors had been relentlessly showering arrow after arrow at each other, nearly equal in speed and with an almost vicious desire to injure the other. 

The King of Anga had realised by then that the third Pandava had certainly been holding back at the start of the fight. And he had launched a full throttled attack as soon as they had entered the fiery ring of the net of Surya. 

The fire would burn them into ash if they tried escaping without killing the other. 

It was as to be decreed. 

And the son of Surya was slowly starting to ponder how much of this was a premediated assault. It seemed like Arjun had very cleverly manipulated him into doing exactly what the younger man had wanted from the start. 

A no holds barred duel. 

With no outside or divine help. 

And by the sheer level of the latter's attack, Karna had come to the painful realisation that he was no match for Arjun's skill. He may have gained an upper hand on him priorly through sheer savagery but when it came down to polished practice, the prince of lightening was nigh unbeatable. 

He should've known. 

Arjun had given up the luxury of a lavish lifestyle long before he was exiled by Duryodhan's treachery. The third Kaunteya had spent almost his entire life in the forests of Bharatvarsha, always in a state of constant peril and continuous movement. 

The other archer had spent almost his entire exile learning weaponry from the best in the trade.

He may not use most of the divyastras granted by Indra and his coterie but he damned well had turned his body into a functioning weapon just as good. 

And Karna had meanwhile sustained on the inflated sense of his own infallibility. Cushioned by his divine armour, he had believed that he was unkillable. 

Who could have envisioned that the gods would be laughing at his fate later on. 

He deserved the taunts. 

All those nauseating praises of Arjun by Bhishma and Drona and the rest of the Kuru chiefs had grated into his nerves and resulted in a downright virulent derision of the Pandava's qualities so much that he had made himself believe in his own unfounded boasting.

'You must know, that defeat is near if a man starts believing in his own con.'

But this was not that bright eyed naïve prince, sheltered by his family, having the backing of the Kurus, standing at the foyer of the arena from all those years ago at the Kuru princes' indoctrination back into Hastinapura from their gurukula. 

This was not the righteous prince preferring to stand in the shadows of his older brother's dominion to uphold their kingdom by his own prowess. 

This was not the younger brother duty bound into following his oldest sibling's, his de facto ruler's every order unquestioned and unchecked. 

This was the unfiltered and unvarnished warrior, pulsating with raw power at the helm of a near binary conclusion to this epic fight; of victory and defeat; of life and death. 

This was Vijaya facing him. 

Undefeated and invincible. 

And he, wilfully blinded by his own arrogance had jumped right into the jaws of death.

It was when Karna grasped air while trying to pull out another arrow from his quiver, he knew that they were at the fag end of the battle. Arjun had forgone celestial weapons as well and his own stash of arrows devoid of the akshaya tunira, was also at the point of near exhaustion. 

So unsurprisingly he deferred to a stalemate instead of further wounding an already injured Karna and let go of his remaining arrows. 

The latter could barely feel anything except agony at this point. Arjun's arrows had, as justly famed, not missed even a centimetre from their intended target, shot to cause maximum damage. 

His entire body was one mass of throbbing blood soaked pain. 

His rival stood silver and crimson, his blood meandering into a near hypnotizing pattern through his once ivory silk dhoti and dusky complexion. Yet he stood tall and unmoving as if Karna's arrows had only scratched at him like a thousand mosquitoes. 

'He had stood toe to toe with Mahadeva himself, bearing the monstrously powerful blows of the Lord of the three dimensions, on his unarmoured, unarmed body with an envious durability. How could his puny arrows compare to that?'

Arjuna smirked at the panting King of Anga as the flaming ring around the duo slowly made a suffocating heat rise from the murky battlefield around them. 

The squadrons appointed to the two warriors had stopped their own fight long ago; too engrossed in witnessing the majestic battle between the two deadliest maharathas of their generation, to pay any heed to their own insufficient squabble for survival. 

The Gandhiva disappeared from Arjun's grasp and Karna understood the intent well enough. 

His own bow, Vijaya followed suit quickly. 

They had both unanimously agreed to keep a hold of their divine bows as the only exception to the rule, for that had become the extension of their very limbs and removing them would be akin to handicapping themselves. 

Not that even the divine Vijaya could help Karna from overpowering his matchless opponent in any way. 

The man was just.. too good. 

"Feel like giving up any time soon, Angaraj?"

Arjun taunted sharply, pouring the bitter acid of humiliating defeat all over Karna's stinging wounds and the latter gritted his teeth against the pain. 

"You could have just asked nicely kid. I would have killed you as a mercy."

Karna snarled, spitting the blood collected in his mouth at the side of the ground in the most unceremonious way possible. 

Arjun sighed like a parent trying to tolerate a child's temper tantrum and slid out a sword from his scabbard. The condescending gesture ignited the flames of an insane desire in Kunti's firstborn to run his so called younger brother through and the latter dug out his own gleaming blade. 

They barely stopped for a breath before charging at each other, with seemingly no respite taken from coming down from a storming battle just moments before. 

The air had started to become heavy with something Karna couldn't identify but he could see Arjun's eyes starting to water from the stinging sensation as well. 

So that meant, it wasn't something of the latter's doing. 

He knew that come what rules this new version of the third Panduputra had no qualms in breaking, he would never go around the actual code of the moral conduct set in the book of warriors. 

If he had agreed to not use the celestial weapons, he would not. 

Come what may. 

Even in Bhishma's case, it had been the grandsire who had broken the rule first. 

Arjun had only retaliated. 

Yet Karna could feel the uneasiness starting to appear on Arjun's grimy and chiselled face, even if the latter barely missed a beat in their dance of death and clashing blades. 

Karna was good with the sword. Very good. 

But he should have realised by now, that Arjun was better. 

The man was barely winded even in the fifteen minutes of constant battling, his body moving fluidly like the extended hilt of his blade itself and Karna could already feel his lungs burning just as much as the fire surrounding them. 

He had started to see purple spots dancing in front of his vision. 

It was achingly humiliating. 

Or maybe it was just Arjun. 

The younger warrior coughed once giving the gold clad man a solitary moment which the latter expertly handled to push back the former by an elaborate albeit highly risky move. Though the cut he had managed to make on the latter's bicep hardly stopped the dusky man from jumping right back into the fray. 

The ring of the fire as per the ancient rules had started becoming smaller and smaller, the radius decreasing with every half an hour and the heat from the celestial tongs had come very near to scalding both the men. 

Karna had a higher tolerance to heat being the offspring of Suryanarayana himself and Arjun was very visibly, sweating more rapidly. But it had been rather well balanced by the fact that he had also been forcing Karna to move back with every hit and skilled manoeuvring of his unstoppable attacks. 

From the outside it seemed like they were a singular blur, trapped in almost sky high flames at this point, only the gleaming white of both blades hammering against each other, catching the glint of the evening sun, once in a while. 

Blood and sweat dripped stinging into Karna's eyes and his body screamed in protest against every painful move that he was forcing upon himself to counter. The fatigue from the prolonged physical attacks and defence had started to slow him down majorly while Arjun just kept increasing the speed and the severity of his blows. 

It was brutal and awe inspiringly quick when it happened. 

If the son of Surya would have been in the audience, he would have even been wont to applaud at the clever trick. 

The dexterity of the move. 

The sheer savage beauty of the sword gliding so expertly around his own, lightening quick and ripping under his ribs in a suave and gut wrenching power to tear open his back from the other end. 

It was a kill move. 

Clinical and precise and astoundingly clean. 

It was not done to cause pain. 

Arjun didn't twist the blade to shred his insides as he had seen far crueller warriors do. As he himself had done to many before.  

And the ironic part was Karna had seen it coming. He knew exactly where he had slipped. He had known the moment Arjun's ever hardened ice chips of silver orbs had suddenly softened, only a split second before he had run him through. 

That legendary compassion peaking out from behind the hungering predator at last. 

Tearing through his fortified defences despite the Pandava prince's best efforts to swallow it all back in. 

There was hope left after all. 

Karna gasped, choked on his blood, felt his ribcage filling in with the precious liquid which should have remained pumping in his thundering heart, and flow out of his lips in a vicious move. 

It was over in seconds yet it felt like eons. 

The sword slipped from his numbed fingers and his body folded within itself like a discarded parchment and in a confusing move, the son of Suryadeva found the son of Devaraja supporting him with a powerful arm around his waist. 

He did not let him drop to the ground like a ragdoll. 

Instead Arjun lowered him on the dusty field with all the grace of a trained dancer and handling his wrenched body with an almost heart breaking tenderness. 

The dance of destruction seemed to have been extinguished within at last and the ring of fire blew out by a solitary wisp of a gentle breeze. 

The net of Surya was won and the son of Surya was defeated. 

_____________________

Arjun looked above, craning his face towards the sky once as the sun slowly descended behind the western horizon, defeat and damnation hanging palpable in the air as the strings of fate rearranged themselves yet again. 

Karna spluttered and Arjun looked down at the proud warrior. 

Beaten and broken, his arrogance crushed, his life at the brink of exhaustion.

A lifetime of bitter rivalry and such an anticlimactic end to it. 

If Arjun were a poet he would be wont to sing a melancholic ballad. But with his hands were drenched with blood instead of the ink and he could form no limerick in his mind. 

He kneeled beside the fallen King of Anga and in a surprising move caught his wrist in a tight grip. 

His mind was scattered and his emotions ran all over the place. 

The numbing relief of a hard sought victory and the fulfilment of a enraged vow taken at the defiled court of the Kurus, his beloved wife's open tresses fluttering in the bitter cold wind of the forests and nothing but an emptiness gorged his rattling chest from inside out. 

Vengeance was surprisingly bittersweet. 

"...forgive...Draup.....ple...."

Karna was trying to say something, the blood spilling from his lips making it near impossible to understand him. Yet Arjun bent low towards his rapidly moving mouth in an attempt to make some coherency of a dying man's last wish if anything. 

"...Draupadi.... forgi... ve... me.. please... tell... "

Arjun's eyes stung despite the anger bubbling low in the fatigued remains of his tattered heart. The feelings he was desperately trying to hide came bubbling at the fore front and the vile string of curses he wanted to fling at the man, as the depraved words the latter had spoken for their Queen came back to him, disappeared at the tip of his tongue. 

Maybe he had seen too much death. 

Maybe the constant battle had worn him out at last. 

"I will. Rest in peace Angaraj"

Arjun whispered clipped yet kind to his greatest rival and saw him close his brilliant amber brown eyes, finally. 

He had raised himself up from his bent position, mouth already moving in a half prayer for the departed soul when the snatches of Karna's last words were uttered. It sounded almost as if the older man was muttering it to himself. 

Like a promise a sleeping child made to themselves caught inside a dream. 

"In.. another.. life...bro... brother."

To be continued

A/N:- Please tell me whether you all liked this. I have written and rewritten this so many times, it should be made illegal. I was so nervous. I hate writing action sequences coz it never fits properly. I just hope, it all came together somewhat legibly.