Kaampilya, Paanchaal

The elegant corridors of Paanchaal echoed with mirth, contrary to what it was a day before.

It was as if a flick of fingers had just changed everything.

Those eyes that were cornering the brothers with looks of retort were now beaming with a sudden respect, that too overnight. Whispers echoed through the halls and corridors, of awe, and once those mouths that doubted their ethics were now in oblivion. 

Because of Drupad's fear. 

What. . . what did even Vyaas say to Drupad that completely changed everything? 

The guards bowed to Arjun as if he was a God, while he strode past the corridors. 

He was a rare carve of lethal power and raw masculinity, yet there was a apodictic, unapologetic elegance in his every stride, a grace that was adjunct with his leonine strength of a deadly warrior.

The layer of tan over his earth kissed hue was a standing decree to his years of ruthless training, every muscle honed and engraved with abrasiveness it bore through. The streaks of marks by weapons and arrows spluttered across his chiseled back, flared in pride. 

Dressed in a navy blue angavastra, the silk fabric clung to his sculpt chest to elevate his panache with ease, the flecks of gold terminating at the end of the shimmering raiment woven with a pristine grandeur of royalty.

His white dhoti, finely embroidered with threads of gold effortlessly harmonized with his suave frame, were tethered across his lissome abdomen to delineate his fervid limbs of perfect prowess. 

His dark curls left unfettered bounced on his broad shoulders, shimmering like  silk, the untamed threads gathered by a bejeweled diadem, the loose strands falling across his forehead like gentle waves flaccid with the zephyrs. 

There was an untamed charm with which his curls fluttered across, suave yet wanton like the flickers of fire and waves but with an added softness to his blooming youth. 

His amber eyes, deep and warm were a lavish enchantment of enigma, glowed with a velvety dazzle, enough to mask the stir that his heart was in. 

Paanchaal seemed like a puzzle that he had left unsolved, years ago. 

His heart pounded against his chest as he drunk in the vast halls, the endless corridors and flowing mirth, which faded into his delusion with the echo Drupad's desire that had rendered him a sleepless night. 

It was more unsettling than Drupad's sudden agreeance. . .   

His forehead was sheen with a layer of sweat as he walked past the halls, looking around with a tightness that gripped his chest. 

Only to be drawn out from it from a giggle of maidens up at the balcony, his internal chaos taking a temporary setback, at the sight. . .

Draupadi was laughing with her friends, with an unbeckoned glow of youthful mirth. 

Arjun seemed to freeze slowly, as the curls of her loose strands swayed with a peer from between the girls, a wide, soft grin etching on her lips the next moment. And without second thoughts, he saw her tearing away from them with a peart vivacity, the grin never fading. 

Her nimble fingers trailed along the balcony railing, her loose curls bouncing across her forehead as she quickly darted past through the corridor with a rendering elegance like the swaying winds. 

She fluttered like a chirruping lark, excited and cheerful, like the blossoms of springs even in the dearth winters.

And he couldn't help but articulate the corner of his lips into a smile, his strides almost turning into a scurry of zeal towards her, the smile etching into an unknowing, full fledged grin. 

He halted himself, just as she did, panting softly at the sudden rush. 

Draupadi's eyes flickered across his face with ragged breaths, her cheeks hued with a flush of fresh red roses, the beads of sweat flattering her forehead like the dew drops of early morn. 

 Her chest heaved gently with each rise and fall, swathed with regal felinity, her delicate frame draped with finely embroidered crimson angavastra. Her elegant curls were gathered into a labyrinth bun, the free strands of ringlets bouncing through the sides of her ears. 

There was an unfettered exuberance with the way she breathed, with the lingering grin on her hued lips. 

Arjun felt his heart pounding, with the way her eyes roamed around him in a feeble attempt to arcane her evident, shy laudation over his form—

Damn. . .

He never felt a woman's gaze on him like that, unabashedly prizing. . . it was intense yet languid, deliberate yet with an attempt to cache the limerence. Innocent yet flaming. 

It set something within his warrior veins, a kindle of unsolicited fire. 

His breath came out in soft pants with her gaze, warm yet intense, lingering over him. 

Oh God, those eyes and the way it stayed on him, dazing. . . 

He never felt so cherished like that, yet fueling him with a stiffness of wondering on his appearance he hardly had thought of. 

He didn't knew why, but he felt like a Prince after ages, with the way she looked . . .

 A Prince who had lost himself in the ebbs of life, who had drifted himself apart from everything. 

He was once lost in the depths of forests, in the thoughts of destiny, fading away like a lamp devoid of oil.

But the way she was looking. . . he felt like, he was Arjun once again. 

Arjun felt heat gathering in his jaws, much contrary to his nonchalant self he carried always with ease. 

"I hope I didn't knock you out. . ." He let out a throaty chuckle, attempting to hide the warmth that was coating his jaws, "Coming out from those tangled locks took a lot of effort." He chuckled more, gathering his nonchalant attitude once again, biting the corner of his lip.

Draupadi snapped out of her thoughts, blinking and Arjun slowly folded his arms across his chest, finding some semblance once again with his lips tilting up slightly in a feigned amuse.

"So. . .?" Arjun began, raising his brows with an apparent innocence, tilting his head.

Draupadi let out a soft chuckle, trying to mask the ignominy she was caught with staring. There was a rustling sweetness in that innocent giggle to hide her overtness, twirling the edge of her garment with her fingers, warmth flooding in her cheeks, jaws and tip of her nose. 

She giggled a bit more, slapping her forehead, "Why didn't. . . why didn't you tell me before that you're Arjun?" 

Oh God. . . even his name sounded like a melody from her mouth!

Arjun chuckled more, tightening his arms around his chest further, "Why? What would have happened if I told you before?" He blinked with feigned innocence, once again, making her fluster. 

"No, I didn't mean that. . ." She mumbled to herself, the smile not leaving her lips.

Why was she so adorable as heck?!

It was itching him hard not to caress those soft, innocent  cheeks that glowed like roses beneath her long lashes.

"So? Do I look good enough to be your husband?" Arjun leaned towards slightly, with a hint of tease, arching his brows that prodded his boyish charm, "Or not?"

The blush deepened around her cheeks, as she peered at him with soft, shy giggles. 

"Prince Arjun?" 

Arjun and Draupadi snapped from their reverie, at Dhrishtadyumn's call with a light smile flickering on his lips. There was a semblance in his eyes once again, contrary to the torn retort in his gaze for him.

Thanks to Vyaas, once again.

"Prince. . ." Arjun stepped forward, with a warm smile.

"Come fast, my father is waiting eagerly at the hall!" He nodded back with a smile, leading the way.

And Arjun's smile faded slightly at the mention of Drupad, everything rushing back to him like an unwelcomed memory. 

"Krishnaa, come up to sister!" Dhrishtadyumn waved at his fireborn twin and Draupadi nodded with a smile, walking up towards him, "Coming. . ." 

Arjun tilted his head with a faint smile and quick, polite nod.

Nevertheless, he followed them with a breathy sigh.

.

.

.

Arjun strode into the hall, an immediate smile coating on his lips as his brothers came in too, swathed in regality once again. 

Yudhishthir walked in with kingly strides, the golden angavastra accentuating his leonine, raw strength, honed with imperial power. 

Bheem was a sculpture of  brute power that pervaded the halls yet with a suave regality. His broad shoulders screamed vigor, a deadly alignment of dominance and warmth jostling in those golden eyes. He was rustically handsome, perfectly carved like an unblemished sculpt of raw limerence. 

Nakul and Sahadev strode with unsolicited credence, with undeniable charm and youthful elegance. 

Finally. . . 

Arjun felt his heart would burst out, seeing them once again in like this—no more helpless, no more struggling—no more hiding, no more running. 

No more. . .

He couldn't hold himself back, but rush towards them with glistening eyes and a watery chuckle.

Wasting no time, the five of them engulfed each other in a deep hug, forgetting everything in the world. 

What they didn't bear together. . .

Every hustle, every blow of betrayal, every strike on their honor, they bore together. 

Together, always. 

The world had always, always hurled them with pain and pain. Only God knew how they survived everything, not letting themselves falter even in the worse. 

They bore everything, together. 

There was pure silence between the five, as none of them were able to say anything, just looking at each other with watery eyes. Breathing heavily with soft, shaky giggles, probably chuckling too much to gulp down the tears. 

Life found them again, again after so much hustling. 

"L-let's go now. . ." Yudhishthir slightly wiped a streak of tear from the corner of his eye, a ragged breath escaping as he patted Nakul's back with a small smile. 

.

.

.

Drupad was happy, rather too happy.

He chuckled and laughed with his relatives, as if he had never been so happy in his life ever. His aged crinkles were shrunk at the corners of his eyes, as he laughed along.

Complete contrary to his weary self the previous day.

It was as if in a click of a finger, the very temperament of Paanchaal was swapped. 

His laughter faded away with rumbling chuckles, replaced with a huge grin on his face, as he stepped down from the stairs at the arrival of the Pandav brothers, "My, my. . .!" 

Arjun walked through the magnificent hall of the palace with his brothers, his heart pounding in his chest once again. The royals, ministers and women watched in awe as the five Princes entered, and their heads bowed down. 

God-worthy reverie. 

Whispers floated like unbound waves, mirth collapsed with gapes and awes. 

Yudhishthir's stretched into a warm smile, as he stepped first, and Drupad wrapped his arms around him without a word, patting his back in affection. 

Arjun and Bheem looked at each other, Bheem smiling slightly looking at him. 

But Arjun felt like his hands growing cold with each moment, the more he watched Drupad, the more he felt rendering punch hitting his guts. 

How. . .how was he going to face him after all this? 

He saw Bheem striding towards the aged King, and he kissed his forehead lovingly, hugging him the next moment. 

Arjun stared and stared, all the tremors of music from drums and trumpets, and the rustling whispers faded into oblivion as his heart knocked within his chest. 

All he could remember was his reddened eyes, hurt and betrayal in them. Those eyes that day was looking into his, not with hatred, not with anger, but something. . . something more. 

There was an aching stare of him which seemed to sunder him instead with unshed arrows. . .

Why was fate like this? 

Why? 

He took gentle steps towards the King, his throat turning dry, and there was nothing he could say.

What should he say?

Just ask for forgiveness. . .? 

But will it suffice everything? 

He felt his nails digging in his palms, his breath catching his throat as Drupad's gaze fleeted towards him the next moment. 

Arjun felt his throat aching to gulp down the knot that was formed, trying to look away. For a moment he felt like even Drupad had stiffened, as he slowly left Bheem from his arms, breathing raggedly. 

For a moment, Arjun felt he had no courage. No courage to lift his eyes and look at him, the memories from the battlefield clawing him like the deadly paws of a vulture reveling on the dead. 

He had no idea even that he was standing there, frozen and still, unable to listen to anything but just his pounding heart, unable to feel anything but the blisters of the wintry zephyrs.

His lowered lashes felt a looming presence, the shadow of which appeared to engulf his own. 

And that's when his frozen self felt a rough hand that reached his shoulder, wrapping around him like an icy boulder he was, like a warm kindling refuging a cold vagabond. . .

★★★★★★★★★

A/N

🥺💖

Btw aaj Arjun Draupadi ke Swayamvar ka date hai 🙈

Signing off for today!

Nushkie