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The grand hall of Hastinapur shimmered in the soft glow of the evening lamps, their golden light casting intricate patterns on the marble floors and the ornate tapestries that lined the walls. The air was thick with the scent of sandalwood incense, its smoky tendrils weaving through the murmurs of conversation that filled the vast room.

Princess Bhanumati of Kalinga sat with a poised elegance beside Queen Gandhari, her posture perfect, her sari flowing gracefully around her like a river of silk. Every movement she made was deliberate, each smile serene and calculated. Her voice, melodic and soothing, was captivating the attention of the elders, who seemed entranced by her charm and intellect.

Anya, seated a few places away, tried to focus on the meal before her, but her attention kept drifting back to Bhanumati. She felt an uneasy knot forming in her stomach. The princess was a vision of grace—effortlessly perfect in every way. And to Anya's dismay, everyone in the hall seemed to hang on her every word.

“I must say, Princess Bhanumati,” Queen Gandhari said with warmth, her blindfolded face tilted toward the young princess. “Your wisdom and grace remind me of my own early days in Hastinapur.”

Bhanumati smiled sweetly, lowering her gaze in a display of modesty. “You honor me, Queen Gandhari. To be compared to someone as revered as you is beyond anything I could have hoped for.”

King Dhritarashtra, seated beside his queen, nodded in agreement. His deep voice rumbled through the hall. “Indeed, Princess. Your composure and intelligence reflect the finest qualities of Kalinga.”

Bhanumati turned to him, her eyes shining with respect. “King Dhritarashtra, your words humble me. It is my hope that I can continue to learn from the great leaders of Hastinapur.”

Anya shifted in her seat, barely suppressing an eye-roll as she overheard the exchange. Her fingers absentmindedly twirled a lock of her hair as she muttered under her breath, “Great, now she’s buttering up the king too.”

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft chuckle from her side. Dushasan, ever the mischievous one among Duryodhan’s brothers, leaned in with a teasing grin. “Bhabhi, why do you look like you’re about to stab your plate with that fork?”

Anya shot him a look, but her lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because everyone’s acting like I’ve turned invisible ever since ‘Princess Perfect’ over there walked in.”

Vikarna, who was seated on her other side, frowned slightly, his brow furrowed in concern. “That’s not true, bhabhi. We all see you.”

Anya waved her hand in the air dramatically. “Oh, sure. You lot see me, but does anyone else? Look at her,” she gestured towards Bhanumati, who was now laughing softly at something Shakuni had said. “Even Shakuni mama is smiling, and he practically invented scheming!”

Dushasan bit back a laugh. “She is impressive,” he admitted, glancing over at Bhanumati. “But don’t let it bother you, bhabhi. You’re still our favorite.”

Anya gave him a skeptical look. “Favorite? Please. I’m sitting here like a potted plant while Princess Charming is working her magic on everyone, including your brother.”

Just as she said that, Bhanumati stood from her seat, her movements as graceful as ever. Anya’s gaze narrowed as she watched the princess glide over to where Duryodhan was deep in conversation with Pitamah Bhishma and Karna, who had just joined them. Bhanumati's sari trailed behind her, shimmering in the warm light of the lamps, and her smile seemed to grow brighter as she approached.

Dushasan, noticing Anya’s sharp stare, leaned closer and whispered, “Careful, bhabhi. You’re starting to look a little… territorial.”

Anya scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Territorial? Me? I’m not territorial. I just don’t like it when people hover around what’s mine.”

Vikarna exchanged a knowing glance with Dushasan. “You mean… your husband?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Anya’s eyes remained glued to Bhanumati, who was now standing beside Duryodhan, placing a delicate hand on his arm. “Obviously,” she muttered under her breath.

“Prince Duryodhan,” Bhanumati said softly, her voice like honey, “it has been far too long since our paths last crossed. I must say, you have grown even more powerful in presence. It is truly admirable.”

Duryodhan, ever the courteous prince, gave her a respectful nod. “Princess Bhanumati, it is a pleasure to see you again. Hastinapur is honored by your visit.”

Anya’s jaw clenched as she watched the interaction. Oh no, she did not just touch his arm.

Bhanumati smiled sweetly, her eyes lingering on Duryodhan a moment too long. “The honor is mine, Your Highness. I’ve always admired your strength and leadership.”

Karna, standing beside Duryodhan, caught Anya’s eye from across the room. His sharp gaze softened with amusement as he gave her a subtle nod, acknowledging her unspoken frustration. Anya's expression relaxed slightly, but her irritation didn’t completely disappear.

Dushasan nudged her with a grin. “Are you going to just sit here and watch, or…?”

Anya didn’t wait for him to finish. She stood abruptly, her eyes set with determination as she made her way over to Duryodhan and Bhanumati. Her stride was confident, and a playful glint flickered in her eyes as she approached.

“Husband!” she called out, her voice bright and cheerful. Duryodhan turned toward her, a smile tugging at his lips as she slipped her arm around his. “There you are, my love. I was just telling your brothers how much I missed you.”

Duryodhan raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “You were just a few feet away, Anya.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her tone dripping with sweetness. “I know, but it felt like miles! Oh, by the way, Princess Bhanumati,” she added, turning to the princess with a wide, almost mischievous smile, “did you know that Duryodhan and I take walks in the garden every morning? It’s our little ritual. Just the two of us, talking about life and, you know, important husband-and-wife stuff.”

Bhanumati blinked, momentarily taken aback by Anya’s sudden arrival. “I… wasn’t aware,” she replied, her tone still polite but clearly thrown off balance.

Anya’s smile only widened. “Oh yes, it’s very romantic. We share everything. Right, husband?” she said, squeezing his arm a little tighter.

Duryodhan chuckled, clearly enjoying Anya’s sudden possessiveness. “Yes, it’s a special time for us.”

Before Bhanumati could respond, Karna, who had been watching the entire interaction with an amused smirk, finally spoke up. “Anya, you seem to be in quite the competitive mood tonight.”

Anya shot him a playful glare. “Competitive? Please, Karna. I’m just reminding everyone who the queen is around here.”

Karna raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. “Ah, I see. Well, it’s certainly hard to forget with you around.”

Dushasan and Vikarna, who had been watching the scene unfold from their seats, were stifling their laughter. “She’s really going for it,” Dushasan whispered to Vikarna.

Vikarna nodded, his serious expression cracking into a smile. “Bhabhi always wins.”

Bhanumati, ever composed, smiled gracefully as she excused herself. “It seems I have been outmatched tonight. Please excuse me, Prince Duryodhan, Princess Anya.”

As Bhanumati walked away, Anya turned to Duryodhan with a triumphant grin. “I win.”

Duryodhan chuckled, pulling her closer. “You always do, wife.”

But Anya wasn’t done yet. She leaned in close, her voice low but firm. “And just so we’re clear, if I ever catch you spending too much time with her—or anyone like her—you’ll be seeing a bald version of yourself in the mirror.”

Duryodhan raised an eyebrow, surprised but amused by the threat. “You’d shave my head?”

Anya gave him a mischievous smile, her eyes sparkling with challenge. “You’ve been warned, husband.”

Karna, overhearing the conversation, burst into laughter. “Duryodhan, I’d listen to her if I were you.”

As the evening continued, Anya returned to her seat with Dushasan and Vikarna, feeling much more at ease. Though Bhanumati had impressed the elders and charmed the room, Anya knew that in Duryodhan’s heart, no one could ever replace her—his fiery, unpredictable, and utterly unforgettable wife.