"Hey awesome reader! Don’t leave me hanging—tap that vote button and drop a comment. It’s like feeding a writer 🍪... and who doesn’t love cookies? 😄"

Anya woke up nestled in Duryodhan’s arms, her usual spot for the past few weeks. She had grown fond of his warmth and comfort, making it a habit to snuggle close to him each night. Her long, blonde hair was in a wild mess, sticking out in every direction like a bird’s nest. Still half-asleep, she murmured, “Good morning, husband,” her voice soft and sleepy as she squinted her eyes open.

Duryodhan chuckled, his deep voice full of warmth as he kissed the top of her head. “Good morning, beautiful.”

Anya, still feeling the softness of his chest beneath her cheek, snuggled closer to him like a lazy puppy. “Five more minutes…” she mumbled, nuzzling into him.

Duryodhan smiled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You seem far too comfortable,” he teased, wrapping an arm around her. “But don’t you want to get up? What about creating more of your ‘culinary masterpieces’?”

Anya groaned, burying her face deeper against him. “Ugh, don’t remind me... The kitchen will survive without me today.”

With a soft chuckle, Duryodhan kissed her forehead and gently pulled away, getting up from the bed. “I’ll go take a bath. Try not to fall back asleep, my sleepy princess.”

Once Duryodhan was gone, Anya rolled over and stared at the ceiling. With a sigh, she sat up and looked at the mirror across the room. Her eyes widened in horror.

“Oh gods…” she muttered, her reflection looking back at her like she had just returned from some battlefield. Her hair was a complete disaster, sticking out in every direction, while her face was marked with pillow creases. “I look like a ghost that’s been attacked by wild animals.”

Shaking her head, Anya scrambled out of bed, muttering to herself about the cruelty of mornings as she hurried to fix her appearance. After what seemed like an eternity of brushing, braiding, and muttering under her breath, she finally managed to tame her hair and look somewhat presentable.

Freshly dressed and looking far more human, Anya made her way to the main hall. Gandhari and Shakuni were seated there, engaged in what seemed like an intense conversation. Gandhari’s serene presence radiated calm, while Shakuni, with his ever-sly smile, looked particularly mischievous today.

“Good morning, mother,” Anya greeted Gandhari with a warm smile, bowing slightly before turning to Shakuni. “mamashree.”

Gandhari smiled softly in return. “Good morning, my dear. How are you today?”

Anya beamed, her earlier morning horror fading. “I’m well, thank you!” She sat beside them, curious about what was being discussed.

Gandhari straightened, her tone becoming more formal. “Anya, today we are expecting guests. They are very important, and we need to prepare the palace accordingly.”

Anya’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Guests? From where?”

Before Gandhari could respond, Shakuni leaned in with that familiar, sly smile of his. “Very important guests, dear Anya. They are from Kalinga. I’m sure you’ll take excellent care of them, won’t you?”

Anya blinked, completely missing the slyness in his tone. “Of course! I’ll make sure everything is perfect.” She grinned, already planning how to decorate the palace.

Shakuni exchanged a knowing glance with Gandhari, his smile widening ever so slightly. “I have no doubt you’ll do an exceptional job.”

Not understanding Shakuni’s hidden meaning, Anya nodded enthusiastically. “No worries! The palace will look amazing. I’ll give the kitchen a break today and focus on the decorations.”

---

Anya quickly shifted gears, throwing herself into the preparations for the arrival of the Kalinga guests. She ran around the palace, giving instructions to the servants, personally choosing flower arrangements, and overseeing the setup of tapestries and candles in the grand hall. Every corner of the palace was meticulously arranged, from the elegant seating to the smallest detail on the banquet table.

“I must admit, I’m a decorating genius,” Anya muttered to herself, satisfied as she inspected the final touches. She gave a proud nod, stepping back to admire the scene. “The guests will be speechless.”

Once the hall was ready, Anya hurried back to her room to change into something more fitting for the occasion. She chose an emerald green sari that shimmered in the sunlight, accentuating her dark hair and fair skin. As she stood in front of the mirror, she smiled. “There. No more bird’s nest. I look like a queen.”

Later that afternoon, Anya stood beside Duryodhan and his brothers—Dusshasan, Vikarna, Chitrasen, and Durmashan—waiting for the guests from Kalinga to arrive. Duryodhan, ever the regal presence, stood tall and composed, though there was a slight twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Anya.

“You’ve really outdone yourself today,” he whispered with a smile.

Anya grinned, pleased with the compliment. “Well, someone has to make sure this palace shines. And at least I didn’t attempt to cook today.”

Vikarna, who had overheard, chuckled. “We’re all grateful for that.”

Anya swatted his arm playfully. “Oh, come on! My food isn’t that bad. Just... experimental.”

“Experimental disasters,” Dusshasan muttered with a mischievous grin, earning a laugh from his brothers.

Anya glared at him mockingly. “Watch it, Dusshasan, or I’ll make you my official taste tester from now on.”

Dusshasan raised his hands in mock surrender. “Please, no! I value my life too much!”

The brothers burst into laughter, and even Duryodhan couldn’t hold back a smile as he watched Anya banter with his siblings. It was moments like this that made her presence in the family so lively and entertaining.

As the palace doors opened to welcome the guests, Anya stood tall, ready to greet them with the same charm she always carried. Although Shakuni’s sly smile from earlier still lingered in her mind, she shrugged it off. Today, she was focused on one thing—making a great impression. Whatever Shakuni was up to, she’d figure out later.

For now, it was time to welcome the guests from Kalinga, and Anya was ready for the challenge.

----

The palace hummed with a vibrant energy as the arrival of the royal guests from Kalinga drew closer. The courtyards, lined with blooming flowers and fluttering banners, looked as if they were celebrating on their own, each leaf and petal swaying in sync with the excitement in the air. Anya stood at the entrance, clutching a beautifully adorned thali in her hands. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, her face glowing from the care she had taken that morning to look her best. She adjusted the pleats of her sari for what felt like the hundredth time, her fingers trembling slightly with the thrill of the moment.

“Is she here yet?” Anya whispered to herself, craning her neck to peer into the distance, where the grand palanquin was supposed to arrive. Her toes bounced off the marble floor, her impatience making it hard to stay still.

Beside her, Duryodhan, ever composed and regal, watched his wife with amusement. A small, fond smile curled at his lips as he gently placed a calming hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, Anya,” he said softly, his deep voice laced with affection. “You’re acting like a child waiting for sweets.”

“I am calm,” Anya shot back, though her bouncing feet said otherwise. “It’s just…” She paused dramatically, her voice dropping to a stage whisper, “I wonder who it is. Someone really important, right? Maybe they’ll smell like… I don’t know, jasmine and gold dust.”

Duryodhan chuckled quietly at her excitement. He watched as the grand palanquin finally came into view, its golden exterior gleaming under the sunlight, curtains of crimson silk fluttering with the wind. The rhythmic jingle of the bells attached to it sent a ripple of murmurs through the crowd.

“That must be it!” Anya whispered, her eyes widening in awe. She stood straighter, the thali now perfectly poised in her hands, its golden edges shimmering in the light. The palanquin came to a graceful halt before them, and for a moment, all seemed still. The air was heavy with anticipation.

A servant moved forward, carefully drawing back the curtains. Anya leaned forward eagerly, nearly standing on her toes, as she tried to catch a glimpse of the guest inside. And then, with a regal sweep of her hand, a figure emerged.

The woman who stepped out was nothing short of breathtaking. She had an aura of effortless grace, her every movement exuding the poise of royalty. Her raven-black hair was styled in an intricate updo, adorned with shimmering jewels that caught the light with every turn of her head. Her sharp, defined features gave her a striking beauty that was impossible to ignore, and her eyes, dark as the night, seemed to pierce through everything they looked at.

Anya’s jaw dropped slightly, her words escaping in a hushed breath. “Woah…” she muttered, completely mesmerized. “She’s… beautiful.”

Duryodhan glanced down at his wife, amusement dancing in his eyes as he leaned in closer to whisper, “Not more beautiful than you, wife.”

Anya’s cheeks flushed a light pink, her lips curving into a shy smile. "Nice save, husband. But seriously, she looks like one of those paintings in the temple—the kind people travel miles just to see."

The woman’s movements were fluid, like water flowing over smooth stones, each step she took exuding the quiet confidence of someone used to admiration. Her sari, an opulent shade of emerald green embroidered with gold, shimmered under the sun, the delicate fabric flowing around her like a soft breeze. Anya couldn't help but admire how everything about her screamed royalty.

“That’s Princess Bhanumati of Kalinga,” Duryodhan whispered softly, his gaze still on the woman.

Anya blinked, turning her head slightly towards him. “That’s Princess Bhanumati?” She shook her head, her voice filled with awe. “Of course it’s her! She’s got the ‘I walk into a room and own it’ vibe.”

Before Anya could step forward to greet her, Princess Bhanumati’s sharp eyes scanned the group gathered at the entrance. With an air of nobility, she moved forward, ignoring Anya entirely as she made her way to Gandhari and Dhritarashtra. She bowed deeply, her voice soft yet commanding. “Pranipat, Queen Gandhari, King Dhritarashtra,” she greeted them with the perfect blend of respect and elegance.

Anya, holding the thali awkwardly in her hands, tilted her head. “Okay… makes sense,” she thought, nodding to herself. “She’s greeting the elders first. Very proper. Very ‘by-the-book.’”

Bhanumati then moved gracefully toward Shakuni, Pitamah Bhishma, and Vidur, offering them the same respect. “Pranipat, Uncle Shakuni, Pitamah, Vidur,” she said, her voice melodic but distant.

Anya, now tapping her foot impatiently, crossed her arms. “Alright, alright… all the elders done. Now it’s my turn!” She straightened her posture, plastering a wide, practiced smile on her face. The thali in her hands glittered under the sun, ready for the ceremonial welcome.

But instead of turning to Anya, Bhanumati swept right past her as if she were invisible. She strode directly towards Duryodhan, her head held high, her eyes bold and unwavering. Anya’s jaw dropped slightly, her smile frozen in place as she stared after the princess.

Standing in front of Duryodhan, Bhanumati’s lips curved into a soft, yet confident smile. “Prince Duryodhan,” she greeted him, her voice a low murmur. “It is an honor to see you again.”

Anya blinked, her brow furrowing in disbelief. “Wait... what just happened?” she muttered to herself, her hands still gripping the thali that now felt incredibly heavy and… completely ignored.

Duryodhan, ever gracious, smiled warmly. “Princess Bhanumati, welcome to Hastinapur. It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

As Bhanumati moved on to greet Duryodhan’s brothers, Anya’s mouth hung open in sheer disbelief. Did she just completely skip over me? she thought, the shock evident on her face. The thali, still in her hands, wobbled precariously as she struggled to process what had just happened.

With an exaggerated cough, Anya cleared her throat loudly, trying to get Bhanumati’s attention. She waved the thali a little too enthusiastically, almost tipping it over in the process. “Excuse me, Princess,” she called, her voice a bit louder than necessary.

Finally, Bhanumati turned towards her, her expression one of polite surprise. “Oh,” she said, her perfect smile back in place, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t notice you properly before.” She offered a quick nod, the gesture more obligatory than sincere. “Pranipat, I am Princess Bhanumati of Kalinga.”

Anya raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a tight smile. "Uh-huh," she replied, her voice dripping with forced politeness. “And I am the wife of my husband, Duryodhan.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with emphasis. Anya held out the thali with a flourish, her smile widening as she practically forced it into Bhanumati’s hands. "Here, Princess, for your welcome. You know… the thing we do when we meet people."

Bhanumati’s smile faltered ever so slightly as she accepted the thali. “Ah, of course,” she said, her tone now a little more strained. “Pranipat to you as well, Lady Anya.”

Anya gave a small, satisfied nod, looking Bhanumati up and down with a knowing glint in her eyes. “Mmm-hmm,” she muttered under her breath. “I’m sure you didn’t notice me earlier.”

Duryodhan, trying hard to hide his amusement, leaned in closer to Anya. “You handled that well, wife.”

Anya shot him a mischievous glance. “Well, I didn’t spend all morning practicing my thali-holding skills for nothing.”

Duryodhan chuckled softly, placing a hand on her back. “I don’t think anyone could ignore you for long, Anya.”

Anya grinned, standing taller beside him. “Good. Next time, I’ll make sure of it.”

As Bhanumati moved on to greet the other guests, Anya couldn’t help but keep an eye on her, her mind buzzing with thoughts. There was something about the princess’s confident, almost dismissive demeanor that both intrigued and slightly irritated her. But for now, Anya was determined to stay in the game, her humor and wit keeping her spirits high as she navigated this strange royal world of politics, palanquins, and pretty princesses.