The late morning sun hung high over the quiet village, its golden rays piercing through a faint layer of mist that clung stubbornly to the ground. The main square was alive with the hum of daily activity: artisans laid out their wares, displaying brightly colored pottery and finely crafted wooden trinkets, their voices blending with the rhythmic chanting of Brahmin teachers reciting ancient mantras under a peepal tree. Guards moved in practiced patrols, their footsteps deliberate but unthreatening, while villagers bustled past, carrying baskets of grain or setting out for their modest offices.

In a corner near the market stalls, a young boy crouched on the ground, engrossed in a game. He clutched a small, crudely carved wooden toy-a figurine of Vasudev Krishna, complete with a miniature flute and a crown of peacock feathers. His laughter rang out as he made the toy dance across the dusty ground, oblivious to the murmurs that had begun to ripple through the crowd.

The murmurs grew louder, nervous glances exchanged between villagers. A shadow fell over the square, not from a passing cloud, but from a procession emerging from the far end of the street. At its center was a man whose very presence seemed to darken the air. Pondrak.

Draped in royal robes of deep blue and gold, his resemblance to Vasudev Krishna was striking, almost uncanny. His skin gleamed, his features sharp and symmetrical, yet where Krishna's presence inspired serenity, Pondrak's radiated menace. A smirk played on his lips, his kohl-lined eyes scanning the square like a predator surveying its prey. Behind him marched his soldiers, their armor polished to a deadly sheen, swords at their sides and faces devoid of emotion.

The villagers stopped in their tracks, some shrinking back into the safety of their homes. The once-busy square fell silent, save for the crackle of a distant hearth and the creak of a cartwheel. Even the Brahmin teachers faltered in their chants, their voices trailing off into uncertain whispers.

The boy, still clutching his toy, turned to face the source of the tension. His eyes widened as he saw Pondrak approaching, his heart racing with the instinctual fear that all creatures feel in the presence of a predator. Yet, he did not run.

Pondrak's gaze fell on the boy, and his smirk deepened. He walked toward him, his strides measured and deliberate, the crowd parting in uneasy silence to make way. Standing before the boy, Pondrak crouched down, his expression softening into a mockery of kindness.

Pondrak :- And what is this you hold in your hand, little one?

He asked, his voice smooth yet laced with danger. The boy hesitated, his small hands clutching the toy tighter. But the innocence of youth outweighed his fear.

"It's Vasudev Krishna,"

He said, his voice clear and proud.

"I want to be like him one day. He can do miracles to help people."

Pondrak's smile froze, the corner of his mouth twitching with barely concealed irritation. He reached out, brushing a finger against the wooden toy.

Pondrak :- Ah, Krishna....

He said, his tone turning cold.

Pondrak :- You want to be like him, do you? And why not like me? I, too, can perform miracles.

The boy tilted his head, curious.

"Really? What miracles can you do?"

Pondrak straightened, the false kindness vanishing from his face. He raised his hand, and the air around it began to shimmer with heat. A glowing orb of fire coalesced in his palm, crackling with raw energy. The boy's eyes widened in awe, but as Pondrak's smirk returned, there was nothing comforting about it.

Pondrak :- Watch closely, little one, this is a miracle.

He said, his voice dripping with malice. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the fireball toward a small hut at the edge of the square. The orb streaked through the air like a vengeful comet, slamming into the hut with a deafening roar. The structure exploded in a shower of splinters and flames, the heat washing over the crowd like a cruel wave. Smoke billowed into the sky as the dry thatch roof caught fire, spreading quickly to the adjacent homes.

The boy screamed, dropping his toy as he stumbled backward. Tears streamed down his face as he turned and ran, his small figure vanishing into the panicked throng.

Chaos erupted in the square. Villagers shouted and scrambled to douse the flames, their desperation palpable. Women clutched their children, pulling them away from the inferno. Artisans abandoned their stalls, their wares forgotten. The Brahmins huddled together, their once-calm chanting replaced by frantic prayers.

Pondrak watched the chaos with a satisfied grin. He turned to his soldiers, who stood ready, their faces as impassive as ever.

Pondrak :- Capture them!!

He ordered, his voice cutting through the din like a blade.

Pondrak :- Every man, woman, or child who worships Krishna but dares to ignore me. Let them kneel before their true god.

The soldiers sprang into action, their movements efficient and merciless. They stormed into the crowd, dragging villagers out of their homes and shops, binding their hands with coarse ropes. Cries of protest and fear filled the air as families were torn apart, their pleas for mercy falling on deaf ears.

As the chaos unfolded, Pondrak raised his hands again. This time, more orbs of light and fire appeared, swirling around him like celestial bodies. They shimmered with an otherworldly glow, a display of divine power that left the villagers frozen in terror. The weapons hovered ominously, their radiance casting long shadows across the square.

One by one, the villagers dropped to their knees, their faces pressed against the dirt. They raised their hands in supplication, their voices trembling as they begged for mercy.

"Please, my lord,"

An elderly man cried, his voice choked with fear.

"We will honor you. Spare us!"

Pondrak's laughter rang out, cold and triumphant. He strode to the center of the square, his glowing astras following him like obedient pets.

Pondrak :- Now you see, the power of Pondrak, the true god! Krishna is but a shadow of me. Worship me, and perhaps I shall spare your wretched lives.

He declared, his voice booming. The villagers' fear deepened, but no one dared to speak against him. The once-vibrant square was now a scene of despair, the air heavy with the acrid stench of smoke and the cries of the terrified. Pondrak reveled in it, his smirk widening as he surveyed the broken spirits before him.

For Pondrak, this was not merely conquest. It was vindication. And it was only the beginning.



The golden afternoon light poured into the chamber of Queen Draupadi, filtering through intricately carved latticed windows. The air was calm, almost serene, carrying the faint aroma of jasmine from the garlands that adorned the walls. Draupadi sat gracefully on a long, cushioned sofa, her emerald-green sari flowing like water around her. In her arms was her infant son, Dhruvsen, whose tiny breaths rose and fell steadily as he nuzzled against her. Her hand moved in gentle, rhythmic motions, patting him softly, her expression tender.

Beside her sat Pallavi. Pallavi's slender fingers held a letter, her brows furrowed in thought as her eyes scanned its contents. The silence between them was companionable, interrupted only by the soft rustling of paper and the occasional coo from Dhruvsen.

After a moment, Pallavi looked up from the letter, her face betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity. Draupadi, ever perceptive, caught the change in her demeanor and raised an eyebrow.

Draupadi :- What is it, Pallavi?

She asked, her tone calm but edged with curiosity. Pallavi hesitated, glancing between Draupadi and the baby in her arms.

Draupadi :- You might want to read this yourself.

She said, extending the letter. Draupadi's eyes narrowed slightly, but she nodded. Shifting Dhruvsen carefully, she handed him over to Pallavi, who took him with practiced ease. The queen's hands unfolded the letter, and her eyes moved quickly over the lines. Her expression shifted subtly-first surprise, then understanding, and finally a soft sigh.

Draupadi :- It's from Govind. Jhanvi has given birth to a son. They've named him Prasen.

She said, folding the letter neatly. Pallavi tilted her head, studying Draupadi's face.

Pallavi :- Vasudev chose to write to you directly. He must have known you'd take it better hearing it from him.

She remarked. Draupadi's lips curved into a wry smile.

Draupadi :- He knew I could never be angry at him, no matter what. Govind has a way of ensuring we forgive him before we even begin to hold a grudge.

She placed the letter aside and leaned back, her fingers momentarily brushing her forehead in thought. Pallavi adjusted Dhruvsen in her lap, her expression softening as the baby stirred.

Pallavi :- And what will you do now?

She asked, her tone cautious.

Draupadi :- What can we do? We wait for Arya to complete his exile. The road ahead is his to walk, and we must let him.

She replied with a hint of resignation. Her voice carried the weight of someone accustomed to patience and the inevitable burdens of fate.

Their conversation shifted to other matters of the court, their voices steady as they discussed trade routes and the arrangements for an upcoming festival. Dhruvsen drifted to sleep in Pallavi's arms, his tiny hand clutching a fold of her sari.

Suddenly, the quiet rhythm of their discussion was interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps outside the chamber. A maid entered, her expression a mixture of urgency and formality as she bowed deeply.

"Kind Maharani,"

The maid said, her voice steady despite her haste.

"Maharaj Vikram of Anga has arrived in Indraprasth. He wishes to speak with you."

Draupadi blinked in surprise. Her gaze flickered to Pallavi, who mirrored her confusion. King Vikram? What could bring him here, unannounced? She nodded slowly, regaining her composure.

Draupadi :- Inform Maharaj Vikram that I will be there to welcome him shortly,

She said, her voice calm but decisive. The maid bowed again and left. Draupadi stood, smoothing her sari as her mind raced. Vikram's sudden appearance was unexpected, and it unsettled her. Pallavi rose as well, handing Dhruvsen back to his mother.

Pallavi :- Do you think it's trouble jiji?

She asked quietly, her voice laced with concern.

Draupadi :- I don't know, but we shall soon find out.

She admitted, her tone thoughtful.

Moments later, Draupadi stood in the grand hall of the palace, the polished marble floors gleaming beneath her feet. The afternoon light streaming through the tall windows bathed the room in a warm glow, but the atmosphere felt oddly heavy, as though the palace itself sensed an approaching storm.

The double doors swung open with a resounding echo, and Vikram entered. He was a striking figure, tall and broad-shouldered, his royal attire embroidered with the insignia of Anga. His expression was unreadable, a mask of stoic authority. He was alone, no security guards or any soldier along.

Draupadi stepped forward, her chin held high. She folded her hands in greeting.

Draupadi :- Welcome to Indraprasth, Maharaj Vikram, your presence here is unexpected but honored. To what do we owe this visit?

She said, her voice steady. Vikram, clad in his resplendent royal attire, seemed slightly uneasy, though he quickly masked it with a respectful bow.

Vikram :- Maharani Draupadi, my visit is one of great urgency.

He said, his deep voice steady but carrying an undertone of hesitation. Pallavi shifted slightly, glancing at Draupadi. Sensing her sister queen's quiet scrutiny, Draupadi pressed further, her gaze sharpening.

Draupadi :- And what is the nature of this urgency, Angraj Vikram?

For a moment, Vikram seemed to struggle with his words. His eyes flickered briefly to Pallavi before returning to Draupadi.

Vikram :- I wish to speak to you in private, Maharani.

He said finally, his tone deliberate but soft. Pallavi raised her brows, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. She looked at Draupadi, who seemed momentarily taken aback by the request. Draupadi's eyes narrowed slightly, and her tone turned cautious.

Draupadi :- I have nothing to hide from my sister queen. Pallavi can stay.

Vikram hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly before he spoke again.

Vikram :- Maharani Draupadi, I mean no disrespect, but this matter is... deeply personal. It is of a nature I wish to share only with you.

The weight of his words hung in the air, and Pallavi's expression hardened. She instinctively shifted Dhruvsen closer, her protective instincts stirred by Vikram's insistence. Draupadi studied him carefully, her intuition warning her that his request was unusual, if not inappropriate.

Finally, after a long pause, Draupadi nodded, her face calm but unreadable.

Draupadi :- Very well. If it is so important, I will hear you.

Turning to Pallavi, she offered a small nod.

Draupadi :- Take Dhruvsen to my chambers, Pallavi. I will join you shortly.

With a reluctant nod, Pallavi stepped back. She adjusted Dhruvsen in her arms and gave Vikram a measured glance before leaving the hall. Her footsteps echoed faintly as she disappeared down the corridor, leaving Draupadi and Vikram alone.

The silence that followed was thick, the neutral air of the hall suddenly charged with tension. Draupadi folded her hands in front of her, her sharp eyes locking onto Vikram's face.

Draupadi :- Now, Angraj Vikram, speak. What is it that required such privacy?

She said, her voice polite but firm. Vikram shifted uncomfortably, the confidence he had displayed upon his arrival now tempered by her unwavering presence. He hesitated again, as though weighing his words, before finally stepping closer.

Vikram :- I hope you will forgive my boldness, Maharani. But what I am about to say comes from a place of deep admiration and respect for you.

Draupadi's gaze did not waver, though her brows knitted slightly in curiosity-and caution.

Draupadi :- Go on.

She said. Vikram exhaled, gathering his courage.

Vikram :- For years, I have admired you from afar. Your beauty, your grace, your strength... They are unmatched, and they have captivated my heart.

Draupadi's face remained composed, but her eyes grew sharper, her stance subtly shifting.

Draupadi :- What exactly are you trying to say, Maharaj Vikram?

She asked, her tone cool. Vikram hesitated again, but his expression hardened with resolve.

Vikram :- What I mean, Your Majesty, is that I have long been in love with you. And though you are bound to King Karn, fate has brought me here now, while he is away. I... I wish to be with you, even if only once.

The weight of his words hit the room like a thunderclap. Draupadi froze, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Vikram flinched under her gaze but pressed on, desperation creeping into his tone.

Vikram :- I know what I ask is bold, perhaps even unforgivable. But I am willing to give you anything-my wealth, my treasury, even the loyalty of my kingdom. All I ask is to share one night with you.

The heavy silence that followed Vikram's words seemed to stretch endlessly, broken only by the faint rustling of Draupadi's sari as she turned slowly to face him. Her sharp eyes locked onto his, piercing through the veil of false confidence he had wrapped around himself. Vikram shifted uneasily under her unwavering gaze, his earlier boldness now faltering like a flame caught in a sudden gust of wind.

Draupadi :- Follow me.

She said, her voice cold and commanding. It was not a request; it was an order. Vikram hesitated for a moment, but the weight of her presence left no room for defiance. He inclined his head slightly, falling into step behind her as she led him down the quiet corridor. The echo of their footsteps seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness, each step adding to the growing tension that hung thick in the air.

The corridor was long and dimly lit, its high walls adorned with intricate carvings and tapestries depicting the history of Indraprasth. But neither Draupadi nor Vikram paid them any attention. She walked ahead with a purpose, her back straight and her steps measured. He followed, his earlier arrogance tempered by a growing sense of unease.

Draupadi's silence was more intimidating than any rebuke, and Vikram felt the pressure mounting with every step. He tried to form words, an excuse, perhaps, or an attempt to soften what he had said, but his throat seemed to close up under the weight of his own folly.

At last, they arrived at a set of massive wooden doors reinforced with iron bands. Two guards stood at attention, their expressions impassive. Draupadi stopped before them, her commanding aura instantly drawing their focus.

Draupadi :- Open the treasury!

She ordered, her voice steady but carrying an edge that brooked no argument. The guards exchanged a brief glance, their brows furrowing slightly in confusion, but they obeyed without hesitation. With synchronized movements, they unlocked the heavy doors and pushed them open.

The creak of the doors gave way to a dazzling sight. The treasury of Indraprasth was nothing short of a marvel. Mountains of gold coins shimmered under the torchlight, their luster seeming to brighten the entire room. Ornate chests spilled over with glittering jewels-rubies, emeralds, sapphires-each more radiant than the last. Silver artifacts, gilded statues, and priceless ornaments filled every corner, creating a scene that could overwhelm even the most seasoned monarch.

Vikram's breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened in shock. He had seen wealth in his time, but never anything like this. The sheer magnitude of riches before him was enough to render him speechless.

Vikram stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the unimaginable wealth before him. Gold, silver, and jewels piled in shimmering abundance, stretching further than he could fathom. The faint light of the torches reflected off the treasures, filling the treasury with an ethereal glow. It was a sight meant to inspire awe, but for Vikram, it brought only fear.

Before he could form a coherent thought, Draupadi's voice broke through the silence, cold and razor-sharp.

Draupadi :- If I so desired, I could have the richest kingdoms of Aryavarth bowing at my feet. Their wealth, their armies, their very sovereignty-Indraprasth could claim them all with but a word.

She began, her tone calm yet laced with unmistakable fury, her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of truth. Vikram swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand. Draupadi turned to face him, her eyes blazing with a fiery intensity that made him shrink back.

Draupadi :- And yet, you dared to think you could buy my honor with a handful of jewels?

She said, her voice rising. Her words struck like a whip, and Vikram flinched as though physically hit. He opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came out. His lips moved uselessly, his once-bold demeanor utterly shattered.

Draupadi :- How dare you?

She demanded, her voice trembling with controlled rage.

Draupadi :- How dare you insult me, insult my husband, my family, and my kingdom with your pitiful offer? Did you think I was some trinket to be purchased? Some trophy to be claimed by the highest bidder?

Vikram's head dropped, his shame rendering him speechless. His legs felt weak, and his palms grew damp with sweat. Draupadi took a step closer, her presence overwhelming, her eyes burning into his soul.

Draupadi :- Do you know why you and your kingdom of Anga survive independently, Maharaj Vikram?

She asked, her voice low and dangerous.

Draupadi :- It is because Indraprasth has allowed it. I have allowed it.

Her words cut through him like a blade. Vikram's breath hitched, his heart pounding in his chest.

Draupadi :- I don't even need so much as raise a finger, with a single word, your kingdom would crumble. Your wealth would be seized, your lands razed, and your people left to beg for mercy. You would face consequences you haven't even dreamt of in your worst nightmares.

She continued, her voice venomous. Vikram stumbled back a step, his legs trembling as her words sank in. His mouth opened again, but no apology or plea could escape the stranglehold of fear gripping his throat.

Draupadi turned abruptly, her sari sweeping the marble floor like a storm's tail.

Draupadi :-;Follow me!

She ordered, her tone making it clear there was no room for argument. Vikram obeyed silently, his head bowed in submission as he trailed behind her. The corridor they walked through was eerily quiet, save for the sound of their footsteps. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of his disgrace were pressing down on him with every passing moment.

She led him through a series of doors and hallways until they emerged onto a grand balcony overlooking a vast exhibition ground. Below, the grounds sprawled out in lush greenery, dotted with enclosures housing exotic animals.



Draupadi walked to the edge of the balcony and gestured for him to join her. Reluctantly, Vikram stepped forward, his hands trembling at his sides.

Draupadi :- Look there.

She said, pointing toward an enclosure near the center of the grounds. Vikram followed her gaze and saw a pair of lions feasting on a large slab of meat. The male lion, his golden mane glowing in the sunlight, ripped into the flesh with powerful jaws, while the lioness prowled protectively nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. The scene was brutal, primal, and utterly mesmerizing.

Draupadi :- Do you smell that?

She asked suddenly, her voice calm yet chilling. Vikram blinked, confused by the question.

Vikram :- Smell... what, Maharani?

He asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze remained fixed on the lions as she replied,

Draupadi :- I smell blood.

Vikram's breath hitched, his heart racing as an icy dread crept through him. Draupadi turned to him slowly, her expression colder than ever.

Draupadi :- It's your blood I smell, King Vikram, I can already see those lions tearing into your flesh, shredding your muscles open, feasting on what remains of your broken body.

She said, her words cutting through the air like a blade. Vikram stumbled back, his face pale, his knees threatening to give out beneath him.

Vikram :- M-Maharani Draupadi, Please-

He stammered, his voice trembling. She stepped closer, her presence towering over him despite her smaller frame.

Draupadi :- I can hear your screams, Vikram, screams that will echo through these grounds as those beasts tear you apart.

She continued, her tone unwavering. Vikram's hands shook as he raised them in a desperate gesture of surrender.

Vikram :- Maharani, I-

Draupadi :- Silence!

She snapped, her voice cutting through his protest like thunder. He froze, his words dying in his throat.

Draupadi's eyes burned with fury as she stared him down.

Draupadi :- You are leaving Indraprasth alive, Angraj Vikram, only because your sister is a wise and honorable woman. Were it not for her, you would not live to see another sunrise.

She said, her voice low but seething with menace. Vikram swallowed hard, the full weight of her words crashing down on him.

Draupadi :- Go.... Leave Indraprasth and never return. Should you be foolish enough to set foot in my kingdom again, there will be no mercy for you

She commanded, stepping back and pointing toward the exit. Vikram nodded quickly, his head bobbing like a frightened bird.

Vikram :- I... I understand. Thank you, Queen Draupadi. Thank you for your mercy.

He stammered. Without another word, Draupadi turned her back to him, her posture radiating strength and finality.

Vikram stumbled away from the balcony, his legs barely able to carry him as he hurried to leave the palace. The echo of Draupadi's words followed him, each syllable etching itself into his mind as a stark reminder of his folly.

As the doors to the balcony closed behind him, Draupadi remained where she stood, her gaze fixed on the lions below. The fire in her eyes slowly dimmed, replaced by a quiet but resolute calm.

For all her fury, she felt no triumph. Only the weight of a queen's burden -the constant battle to defend her honor, her family, and her kingdom against those who sought to undermine them. But she would not waver. Not now, not ever.



The evening sun bathed the royal palace of Mahendrapuri in a warm, golden hue, its light filtering through the intricately carved windows of the grand hall. Maharaj Vyagradatt sat on his ornate throne, a letter in his hand, his eyes shining with joy. Beside him stood his queen, Sanjana, her face radiant with curiosity as she observed her husband's unusually cheerful demeanor.

Sanjana :- Something tells me that letter holds good news.

She said with a gentle smile. Vyagradatt looked up, his joy evident in his expression.

Vyagradatt :- Indeed, it does. A letter from Indraprasth has arrived, seeking the hand of our daughter, Awantika, for Prince Nakul. I've been waiting for it for so long. After the exile of Maharaj Karn, I thought Nakul would never agree for marriage.

He stood, his voice brimming with pride. Sanjana clasped her hands together, her heart swelling with happiness.

Sanjana :- This is wonderful news! The Pandavs are a family of great honor. I know time must've been hard on them but they are wise people and are

Vyagradatt nodded.

Vyagradatt :- And we are fortunate to align with a kingdom as illustrious as Indraprasth. Come, let us share this joyous news with Awantika.

The king folded the letter carefully and tucked it into his sash. Together, he and Sanjana left the grand hall, their steps echoing through the marble corridors as they made their way to Awantika's chamber.

---

Awantika sat by the large arched window of her chamber, her delicate fingers tracing the edges of a scroll. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder as her eyes absorbed the words written on the parchment. The soft light of the setting sun illuminated her serene face, and a gentle breeze played with the silken curtains behind her.

The sound of approaching footsteps broke her concentration. She looked up, setting the scroll aside as the doors to her chamber opened.

Her parents entered, their faces glowing with excitement.

"Awantika,"

Her father began, his voice warm,

"We have come with wonderful news."

Awantika stood, adjusting the folds of her lavender sari, a small smile playing on her lips.

Awantika :- What is it, pitashree?

She asked, her voice soft and inquisitive. Vyagradatt walked closer, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Vyagradatt :- We have received a proposal from Indraprasth, seeking your hand in marriage for Prince Nakul. It is a great honor, my dear, and a bond we have long hoped for. Indraprasth is ready for the marriage.

He paused, letting the words sink in. Awantika's cheeks flushed a delicate pink at the mention of Nakul. She lowered her gaze shyly, her hands fidgeting with the edge of her sash.

Sanjana stepped forward, her voice filled with affection.

Sanjana :- Awantika, do you have any objections? If there is anything you wish to discuss, now is the time.

Awantika glanced at her mother, then at her father, and shook her head gently.

Awantika :- No objections, father, mother, you may proceed as you deem fit.

She said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her parents exchanged a joyful glance, their hearts brimming with pride and happiness. Sanjana smiled warmly at her daughter.

Sanjana :- Very well, then. We shall begin preparations immediately. The alliance between Mahendrapuri and Indraprasth will bring great joy to our people.

Vyagradatt nodded, his voice resolute.

Vyagradatt :- The date will be fixed soon. You have made us proud, Awantika.

As they left the chamber, still discussing the details of the upcoming wedding, Awantika remained where she stood, her heart racing. The moment the doors closed behind them, she turned back toward the window, her steps measured and deliberate.

---

The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and crimson, its light casting a warm glow over the sprawling gardens below. Awantika's eyes traced the horizon as she reached into the folds of her sash, retrieving a letter she had tucked away earlier.

She unfolded it carefully, her fingers trembling slightly as her eyes scanned the familiar handwriting. It was a letter from Nakul, its tone intimate and earnest.

"Awantika, The news of our union fills me with both excitement and nervousness. It is not every day that one embarks on a journey as sacred as this. I ask you now, not as a prince, but as the man who hopes to share his life with you: Are you ready to walk this path together? Will you stand by my side, through joys and sorrows alike, as we build our lives in unity?"

Awantika's lips curved into a soft smile as she read the words again, her heart swelling with warmth. She folded the letter carefully and held it close to her chest, her gaze lifting to the vibrant sky.

The sun was dipping lower now, its golden light softening into twilight. She leaned against the window frame, her mind filled with thoughts of Nakul-the man she had admired from afar, whose letters had brought her comfort and joy.

Awantika :- I will. I will walk this path with you, Nakul. I promise to stand by your side, always.

She whispered to herself, her voice carried away by the evening breeze. The faint sound of laughter from the gardens below reached her ears, mingling with the gentle rustling of the leaves. Awantika closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of quiet anticipation.

The world outside was changing, and so was her life. But in that moment, standing by the window with Nakul's letter in her hand and the promise of a new beginning in her heart, she felt ready to embrace it all.

The first stars began to appear in the sky, their light faint but steady. Awantika took it as a sign-of hope, of love, and of the uncharted journey that lay ahead.

She turned from the window, her resolve firm, and placed the letter in a small chest beside her bed. Tomorrow would bring preparations, excitement, and the start of something new. But for now, she allowed herself a moment of stillness, her heart filled with quiet joy and unwavering determination.

As the night descended over Mahendrapuri, the promise of a bright future lingered in the air, binding two hearts together even across the distance.



The evening sun dipped low over the vast expanse of Hastinapur's grand palace, casting long shadows across its marble corridors. In one of the secluded chambers, Shakuni paced back and forth, his dark eyes burning with a fire that seemed impossible to extinguish. His sharp features, hardened over years of bitterness, bore an expression of cold determination.

Seated near him on a low stool was his eldest son, Uluka. The young man, sharp-witted like his father, watched Shakuni with curiosity. He knew his father's hatred for Hastinapur ran deep, but there were layers to it he had yet to uncover.

Shakuni paused by the window, staring out at the sprawling city beyond. The setting sun bathed Hastinapur in a golden hue, but his gaze saw none of its splendor. His voice, low and venomous, broke the silence.

Shakuni :- Do you see this city, Uluka? Its towering walls, its bustling streets, its mighty palace?

He gestured outward, his hand trembling slightly with restrained fury.

Shakuni :- All of it stands as a monument to the cruelty inflicted upon my family. A mockery of the justice that should have been ours.

Uluka frowned, tilting his head.

Uluka :- Pitashree, you've often spoken of your hatred for Hastinapur, but you have never told me in detail what fuels it. What injustice was done to our family?

Shakuni turned to his son, his expression darkening.

Shakuni :- It begins with your aunt, Gandhari. A princess of unparalleled beauty and virtue, married to a blind man-a deliberate insult to our family's honor. Hastinapur reduced her to a shadow of herself, binding her to a life of darkness.

His voice cracked with suppressed emotion, but he pressed on.

Shakuni :- Do you know why she wears that blindfold, Uluka? Not just out of devotion to her husband, but to endure the indignity she was forced to accept. She chose blindness so that she would not have to bear witness to the scorn and humiliation cast upon her by this cursed city.

Uluka clenched his fists.

Uluka :- And no one spoke against this injustice?

Shakuni's eyes narrowed.

Shakuni :- No one. Not the Kuru elders, not the mighty warriors of this land. They let it happen, all while basking in their self-righteous glory. And at the center of it all stood one man: Gangaputra Bhism.

The name dripped from his tongue like poison. Uluka's eyes widened slightly.

Uluka :- Gangaputra Bhism?

Shakuni's lips curled into a bitter smile.

Shakuni :- Revered, yes. But to me, he is nothing but a hypocrite. A man cloaked in white robes of supposed virtue, yet his silence and compliance with that injustice speak louder than any words.

He began pacing again, his movements sharp and restless.

Shakuni :- I swore on that day, Uluka, that I would not let their sins go unpunished. I would see this city burn in the fire of my vengeance, its people reduced to ashes, its legacy shattered.

He turned to his son, his voice steady but seething with conviction.

Shakuni :- And Bhism, the great Gangaputra, will watch it all crumble around him. His white robes will be stained red with the blood of those he sought to protect.

Uluka leaned forward, his expression both awed and unsettled.

Uluka :- But how, pitashree? How do you intend to destroy a city as mighty as Hastinapur?

Shakuni's smile grew colder.

Shakuni :- With patience, my son. Revenge is not a battle fought in haste. It is a game-a long, meticulous game where every move counts. And I am its master.

He leaned closer to Uluka, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Shakuni :- The seeds of Hastinapur's downfall have already been sown. Its future will be drenched in chaos, its rulers consumed by their own greed and discord. And when the time comes, we will strike, ensuring that not a soul survives to remember its glory.

The room fell silent, the weight of Shakuni's words hanging heavy in the air. Uluka, though young, understood the gravity of his father's vow.

The golden light of the setting sun faded, giving way to the shadows of dusk. As darkness enveloped the chamber, Shakuni's voice broke through once more, cold and unyielding.

Shakuni :- Hastinapur will fall, Uluka. Mark my words. And when it does, we will be there to watch it burn.



The late evening sky was streaked with hues of crimson and gold as the sun prepared to dip below the horizon. The deserted road stretched endlessly, bordered by tall trees that swayed in the gentle wind. Vikram dismounted his horse, his movements sharp and fueled by a storm of emotions.



He turned back, his eyes fixated on the distant glow of Indraprasth's grand palace. Its golden domes gleamed against the fading light, a symbol of power and defiance that only stoked the flames of his anger further.

Vikram :- How dare she!!

He muttered, his voice rising with every word until it echoed through the empty road.

Vikram :- How dare she insult me, humiliate me, when all I did was ask?

His fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms as the memory of Draupadi's piercing gaze and sharp words burned in his mind. The sheer audacity of her cold dismissal churned his insides.

Vikram :- You will regret this, Draupadi. One day, you will see the consequences of spurning me. I swear, I will have my revenge.

He growled, his voice venomous. His oath hung heavy in the air, mingling with the rustling leaves as the first stars began to dot the twilight sky.



Did you like the chapter ?

I hope it was worth the wait. How was Draupadi's rage ?

Do tell me whether I should continue the story or move ahead.

Do comment if you have any suggestions.

Will see you in the next part, untill then, take care, and bye.