Rhea did not like being summoned.

But when Gandhari called for her, she obeyed.

The queen mother's chambers were quiet, the heavy scent of incense filling the air. Gandhari sat gracefully, her presence as steady as always, but Rhea could sense something different today.

A weight.

A decision already made.

"You will go speak with them," Gandhari said simply.

Rhea blinked. "Them?"

"Bhanumati. And her companion, Supriya."

The answer was not what she expected.

Rhea frowned. "Surely they would be more comfortable speaking to their attendants?"

"They do not wish for attendants."

That gave her pause.

If the future queen of Hastinapura and her closest companion did not wish to be surrounded by courtly whispers, it meant one of two things.

They were either afraid... or they were uncertain.

Rhea was not sure which was worse.

She sighed. "And you think I would be the best person for this?"

Gandhari gave her a small, knowing smile. "You do not belong to the court, child. That is why you will be heard."

Bhanumati and Supriya sat in a lavishly decorated chamber, but the beauty of it did nothing to soften the tension in the air.

They were not afraid.

But they were cautious.

Careful.

Their posture was perfectly composed, but their gazes flickered between Rhea and each other, as if trying to measure her before deciding how much to reveal.

Rhea stopped a few steps away, waiting. Letting them decide how to begin.

Finally, it was Bhanumati who spoke first. "You are Rhea?"

Her tone was even, polite—but there was an unspoken question beneath it.

Rhea inclined her head slightly. "I am."

A pause. Then—"You are not part of the court."

Rhea smiled faintly. "No, I am not."

Bhanumati's sharp gaze flickered over her, assessing. "Then why did they send you?"

Not accusing. Not hostile. Just... cautious.

Rhea met her gaze evenly. "Because someone thought I would be the best person for you to talk to."

Another pause. Then, unexpectedly, Supriya spoke.

"Do you think they mean well?"

The question caught Rhea slightly off guard.

Not do you think we will be safe? Not what does the court want from us?

But do you think they mean well.

Rhea exhaled, choosing her words carefully. "I think some do. I think others do not. And I think most do not bother thinking about it at all."

Bhanumati and Supriya exchanged a look.

Then—Bhanumati smiled, just slightly.

"Good. I do not like false reassurances."

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Neither do I."

The atmosphere softened slightly.

Not relaxed—but no longer sharp with unease.

Supriya glanced at Bhanumati before speaking again. "We have been given everything we could possibly need. Gold, silks, jewels."

She looked down at her lap. "But none of it belongs to us."

Bhanumati's expression didn't change, but Rhea noticed the slight tension in her fingers.

They weren't frightened.

But they were aware.

Aware of the fact that their lives had changed permanently. That their future was no longer their own to shape.

That even if they smiled at the wedding, even if they fulfilled their new roles as queens—

They would never again be simply Bhanumati and Supriya.

Rhea knew that feeling too well.

And so, she did not offer meaningless comfort.

Instead, she asked—"What is it you fear the most?"

Supriya hesitated. "That we will become something we do not recognize."

Bhanumati's voice was quieter, but steady. "That we will be forgotten in the process."

Rhea understood.

Rhea let out a slow breath. "You are not wrong to feel this way."

Bhanumati tilted her head slightly. "You do not say it will get easier."

Rhea smirked faintly. "Would you believe me if I did?"

Supriya let out a quiet laugh—not of amusement, but something closer to relief.

Rhea was not here to deceive them.

And that, more than anything, seemed to put them at ease.

Bhanumati's gaze lingered on her. "You have no power here. No throne. No alliances. Why send you?"

Rhea shrugged. "Because sometimes people just need someone who will listen."

Bhanumati considered that. "And if we asked you to stay?"

Rhea met her gaze, unwavering.

"Then I would listen for as long as you need me to."

The tension had not disappeared completely.

But it had lessened.

Bhanumati no longer sat rigidly, her hands curled tightly in her lap. Supriya no longer glanced around the room, as if expecting unseen eyes to watch their every movement.

There was still caution—there would always be caution in a place like Hastinapura.

But something had shifted.

Now, they were not just speaking to Rhea as an outsider.

They were speaking to a woman.

A woman who, like them, had lived under the weight of expectations she had never chosen.

A woman who understood what it meant to be placed in a world that would never fully be hers.

Bhanumati let out a breath, leaning back slightly. "You know, I expected something different."

Rhea raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Bhanumati smirked faintly. "I thought they would send someone to tell us that we were fortunate. That this life was a blessing. That we should be grateful for what has been given to us."

Rhea snorted. "I do not lie for comfort."

Supriya gave her a small, amused look. "No, I don't think you do."

A brief pause.

And then, almost hesitantly, Supriya spoke again.

"Was it like this for you?"

The question was quiet.

Almost cautious.

Rhea hesitated.

She had never been taken. Never been forced into a marriage, never had her fate sealed in a public ceremony.

But had she ever felt powerless?

Had she ever woken up and realized the life she once had was no longer hers to control?

Yes.

Far too many times.

Rhea exhaled. "Not in the same way."

Bhanumati's gaze flickered toward her. "But in some way?"

Rhea tilted her head, considering them.

And then, for the first time that night—she answered honestly.

"There was a day when I had a father. A mother. A home."

Her voice was steady, but the weight of the words settled between them like something unspoken.

"And then, one day, I did not."

Supriya's expression softened. "What happened?"

Rhea forced a small smile. "Hastinapura happened."

Bhanumati and Supriya exchanged a look.

And then, to Rhea's surprise—Bhanumati laughed.

It wasn't mocking. It wasn't unkind.

It was just a laugh of bitter understanding.

"So we are not the first."

Rhea smiled faintly. "No. And you will not be the last."

Supriya exhaled, shaking her head. "And what does one do, then?"

Rhea shrugged. "Survive. And choose, when you can."

Bhanumati raised an eyebrow. "And if there is no choice?"

Rhea looked at her carefully.

And then, simply, she said—

"Then you make one anyway."

Silence stretched between them.

But it was no longer a heavy, uncertain silence.

It was a silence of women who understood each other.

And for now—

That was enough.

As Rhea stood to leave, Bhanumati smirked. "Well. I suppose if nothing else, at least we will have each other."

Supriya smiled softly. "And now, we have you as well."

Rhea paused.

For a long moment, she didn't know what to say.

And then, finally—she gave them a small nod.

Because they were right.

For all that she had tried to remain apart from Hastinapura's games—she had already been pulled in.

As she walked back through the palace halls, she wondered—

Would Bhanumati and Supriya adapt? Would they carve a place for themselves?

Or would the palace shape them into something else entirely?

She supposed time would answer that.

But for now—

She had done what Gandhari had asked of her.

And, perhaps, she had done something more than that, too.