The palace gardens were peaceful in the morning, before the world woke up and filled the air with demands and expectations. The sun was warm but not yet harsh, filtering through the leaves in golden patches, and the quiet hum of the wind through the trees made it feel like the only place in Hastinapura untouched by politics.

Rhea sat beneath her usual neem tree, stretching out her legs, enjoying the rare moment of stillness. She had woken early, restless thoughts pressing against the edges of her mind, but for now, she let them settle.

She wasn't expecting company.

Which was why she was mildly surprised when Yuyutsu approached from the other side of the garden. He had his usual air of quiet unease, his steps careful as though he wasn't sure if he was intruding.

"You can sit," she said before he could ask, scooting slightly to make space on the stone ledge beside her.

Yuyutsu hesitated for only a moment before taking the offer.

For a while, they simply sat in silence.

Rhea wasn't particularly close to Yuyutsu—he was a Kaurava, but not quite. The son of Dhritarashtra, yet not truly one of the hundred brothers. He was neither fully accepted nor entirely cast out, always existing on the edges of the family that claimed him.

She had always wondered what that must have felt like.

"Do you ever feel like you don't belong?" Yuyutsu asked suddenly, staring ahead, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the stone beneath them.

Rhea turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. "Where did that come from?"

He exhaled, rolling a small pebble between his fingers. "I just—sometimes, I think about it. My place here. My place anywhere, really."

Rhea considered his words. "You were born into this palace. If you don't belong here, then where else would you?"

He smiled, but it wasn't a happy one. "You know that's not what I meant."

She did.

Yuyutsu was different. He was not truly a Kaurava—not in the way Duryodhana and his brothers were. Born of a different mother, his place in the family was always uncertain, always dependent on the will of others. He was Dhritarashtra's son, but that had never been enough to grant him the same unquestioned status as the rest.

Rhea leaned back against the tree trunk, crossing her arms. "Then let me ask you this—do you want to belong?"

Yuyutsu blinked, as if the thought had never occurred to him.

Before he could answer, they heard approaching footsteps.

Rhea had a feeling she already knew who it was.

Nakula appeared first, his usual easy grin in place as he strode over. "Look at this—our usual spot, and we weren't even invited?"

Sahadeva followed a few steps behind, shaking his head. "It's not our spot, Nakula."

"It is if we keep showing up," Nakula said, plopping down beside Rhea without hesitation. Sahadeva, more reserved, took his time settling across from them, resting his arms on his knees.

Yuyutsu looked between them, clearly not expecting their company. "I—should I go?"

Rhea waved a hand dismissively. "Stay."

Nakula nudged Sahadeva. "He looks like he's thinking about serious things. Maybe we should help."

Sahadeva shot his brother a flat look. "That's not how serious things work."

Yuyutsu exhaled in amusement. "I was just... asking Rhea something. About belonging."

Nakula tilted his head. "Ah. One of those conversations."

Yuyutsu gave him a dry look. "You don't ever question where you belong, do you?"

Nakula considered the question with exaggerated seriousness, tapping his chin. "No, not really. I wake up, I fight things, I eat food, I sleep. That's about it."

Rhea chuckled. "An inspiring philosophy."

"I try."

Sahadeva, however, was watching Yuyutsu carefully. "You're not really asking about belonging," he said.

Yuyutsu blinked, caught off guard. "...What am I asking, then?"

Sahadeva tilted his head slightly, considering. "You're wondering if what you are now will always be what defines you."

Silence.

Yuyutsu looked down, as if Sahadeva had peeled back something he hadn't meant to show.

"...Maybe," he admitted.

Nakula sighed dramatically. "And here I was hoping for a conversation about food or swords. Why is everything so complicated?"

Yuyutsu shot him a half-smile. "You ever think about things beyond food and swords?"

Nakula grinned. "Not if I can help it."

"That's a lie," Rhea muttered.

Nakula turned to her, mock-offended. "How dare you?"

She smirked, shaking her head, but Yuyutsu still seemed thoughtful.

He glanced at Rhea. "What about you? What do you think? About all of this?"

Rhea sighed, looking out at the trees. "I think people spend too much time trying to be what others expect them to be. You belong where you decide to belong."

Nakula gave an approving nod. "Now that is an inspiring philosophy."

Yuyutsu exhaled, the tension in his shoulders loosening just slightly. "That's easier said than done."

Sahadeva, who had been quiet for a while, finally spoke. "It is. But it's still true."

Yuyutsu gave him a curious look. "Do you believe in fate, then? That things are already decided?"

There was a pause. Sahadeva looked at him, then at Rhea, then at Nakula. His expression was unreadable, as it often was.

"...I believe," he said slowly, "that knowing what will happen does not mean knowing what choices we will make."

Nakula groaned, rubbing his face. "There he goes again."

Rhea smirked. "You're just mad because you don't understand him."

"I am mad," Nakula admitted. "But mostly because I do understand him, and it means we're going to be thinking about this conversation later."

Rhea laughed. "Well, at least you'll be thinking about something other than food."

"Unlikely," he said with a grin.

Yuyutsu, who had seemed so tense earlier, was now visibly more at ease. He shook his head, looking at all of them with something almost like appreciation. "I think... I think I needed this conversation."

Nakula clapped him on the shoulder. "We're very wise, after all."

Sahadeva hummed. "Debatable."

Nakula nudged him. "You're supposed to agree with me."

"I don't think I am."

Rhea shook her head, watching them bicker.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, an unexpected thing had happened.

This—these conversations, these moments—they had become something she didn't realize she had missed.

Friendship.

And maybe, just maybe, that was something worth holding onto.