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Morning in Hastinapur:

The soft light of dawn bathed Hastinapur in a golden hue, and the air carried the gentle chirping of birds welcoming the new day. Inside the grand corridors of the palace, Anya twirled gracefully in her vibrant sari, her bare feet skipping lightly over the cool marble. The sheer fabric of her sari flowed like a cascade of bright colors—sunset orange, deep reds, and hints of gold—each fold catching the sunlight as she moved. Her laughter echoed off the tall stone columns, as if the worries of the world had never touched her.

From afar, Duryodhan stood by a large window, the cool morning breeze ruffling his long robes. His dark eyes tracked her movements, an intensity simmering beneath his stoic facade. His brows furrowed slightly as memories of last night replayed in his mind. He recalled her trembling voice, the way her tears had fallen silently as she confessed her fear—fear that she might lose him, fear that the weight of his words may not have been enough. No one will take your place, he had promised her. And yet, here she was, spinning and laughing as if the heaviness had lifted overnight.

Anya suddenly spun toward him, her bright eyes locking on his figure by the window. She lit up, practically skipping across the grand hall toward him, her infectious laughter bubbling up as she reached out and lightly poked his arm.

"Oye, Mister Serious!" she teased, her grin wide and mischievous. "Have you been watching me twirl this whole time? How do I look?"

Duryodhan’s stern expression softened for a moment, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Still, his gaze held a weight of concern. "You look... energetic," he replied, his voice low, observing her carefully.

Anya gasped dramatically, placing a hand on her heart in mock horror. "Energetic? Just energetic?" She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes playfully as she leaned in. "Duryodhan, I expect nothing less than ‘stunning’ or ‘ravishing’ from my dear husband, and all I get is energetic?"

A smirk played on his lips, though his mind still lingered on the doubts she had voiced the night before. He knew her too well. She was hiding behind her usual playfulness. "You're always beautiful, Anya," he murmured, his voice soft yet weighted with meaning. "But today, you're a bit... noisier than usual."

Anya clutched her chest with both hands, as though deeply wounded by his words. "Noisy? Me? Oh no, my fragile heart can’t take such cruel insults." She fluttered her hand dramatically toward her forehead, pretending to faint. "Woe is me! My husband thinks I’m noisy!"

A deep chuckle escaped Duryodhan, vibrating in the air between them, but it quickly faded. His large hand gently caught her wrist, pulling her closer with a tenderness that contrasted his usual fierceness. His eyes bore into hers, an intensity she couldn’t escape. "Anya," he said, his voice low and serious, "why are you pretending everything is fine? What’s really going on?"

Her playful demeanor faltered. She hesitated, her gaze dropping as her fingers traced the intricate embroidery on his tunic. "I trust you, Duryodhan," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I really do... But sometimes, I get scared. Scared that one day, you’ll feel trapped by the weight of the throne, by the expectations placed on you. What if—"

He cut her off, pulling her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Her cheek pressed against his chest, and she could hear the steady beat of his heart. "Stop," he whispered fiercely, his grip tightening. "You will never lose me, Anya. No one else could ever take your place. You belong to me, and I will never let anyone come between us."

Anya’s lips curled into a soft smile, her heart swelling with warmth. "I know," she murmured, her breath lightly brushing his neck. "But sometimes, it's still nice to hear you say it."

Duryodhan pressed a lingering kiss to her temple, his lips brushing her skin as he pulled back to meet her eyes. "You’re mine, Anya," he repeated, his voice tender but commanding.

Her mischievous grin returned, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him. "You’re being awfully intense for this early in the morning," she teased, giggling. "What’s gotten into you?"

Before he could answer, a servant entered, bowing deeply. "My lord, the council awaits your presence in the throne room."

Duryodhan sighed, his hands lingering on Anya’s waist as if reluctant to let her go. "Duty calls," he muttered, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

Anya giggled, giving him a playful nudge. "Go, my fierce husband. Try not to scare them too much."

---

In the Throne Room:

The air in the throne room was thick with tension. Duryodhan sat on the grand throne, his posture regal, his expression a cold, unyielding mask. His dark eyes bore down on Princess Bhanumati, who stood before him in a gown of shimmering gold. Her usually confident stance wavered under the weight of his gaze.

"Your Highness," Bhanumati began, her voice polished but laced with urgency. "A union between our kingdoms would strengthen both Kalinga and Hastinapur. The benefits—"

"There will be no marriage," Duryodhan interrupted, his voice low and dangerous, each word a sharp blade.

Bhanumati’s eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face. "But, Your Highness, think of the power, the alliance we could forge—"

His fist slammed down on the armrest of the throne, the sound echoing through the vast chamber. "I said leave."

She recoiled slightly, the icy finality in his tone making her pale. "But a union between our kingdoms could—"

"I will not repeat myself," Duryodhan growled, his voice calm but seething with unspoken threat. "Leave Hastinapur. Now."

Bhanumati bowed stiffly, her regal facade faltering as she turned and hurried from the room, her footsteps echoing against the stone floors.

After dismissing Bhanumati Duryodhan told to his attendees and council to leave
---

Behind the Pillar:

Anya, hidden behind a grand pillar, had witnessed the entire exchange. Her heart raced, a mixture of pride and warmth swelling inside her. He had dismissed the princess—coldly, ruthlessly—without hesitation. He chose me, she thought, her lips curving into a soft smile. But how did he know she was there?

Duryodhan’s deep voice broke the silence, cutting through her thoughts. "Come out, my rabbit."

Her eyes widened in surprise. How does he always know? She stepped from behind the pillar, her sari swishing softly. "How did you know I was here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

Duryodhan turned to her, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I always know when you’re near," he replied smoothly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Anya giggled, rushing forward to wrap her arms around his waist, burying her face into his chest. "You were amazing," she whispered, looking up at him with admiration. "So cold, so ruthless. And you defended me so fiercely."

Duryodhan’s arms encircled her, holding her close. He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered, "I told you, Anya. You’re mine. I’ll always protect you."

Anya looked up at him with a playful smile. "And you, Duryodhan, are stuck with me forever."

He bent down, pressing his lips to hers in a tender kiss, one that lingered longer than usual. When they finally pulled apart, Anya giggled again, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Husband, we’re not in our bedroom. Save it for tonight."

Duryodhan chuckled deeply, his hand lightly patting her hair. "You’re really bold, you know that?"

Before they could say more, Karn entered the room, his expression bemused as he took in the scene. "Am I interrupting something?"

Anya turned to face him, laughing lightly. "Oh, just Duryodhan being his usual intense self," she quipped. "You know how he is."

Karn shook his head, smiling. "Yes, but try not to get him too distracted. The council’s been waiting for quite some time now."

Duryodhan sighed, casting Anya a playful glance before straightening. "Duty calls, once again."

Anya pouted dramatically, crossing her arms. "Fine, go then. But you better come back quickly, or I’ll stage a rescue from the council myself."

With a final chuckle, Duryodhan gave her hair a gentle pat before heading toward the door, Karn trailing behind with an amused grin.