Ishani moved with regal grace, her silk robes whispering against the cool marble floor as she unfurled the Kosala treaty before the Kuru throne. The Kosala envoy beside her stood rigid, a statue of disciplined composure, but Ishani's presence filled the hall. Her voice, when she spoke, was a study in contrasts – steel wrapped in honey, a silken threat that promised both prosperity and retribution.

"This alliance," she declared, her voice echoing through the stunned silence of the court, "ensures the survival of your kingdom. Kosala halts the flow of weapons to your enemies, opening vital trade routes, and most importantly, peace. A peace forged not in weakness, but in mutual strength."

Her gaze swept across the assembled nobles, lingering for a moment on the shadows that clung to the edges of the hall. Her eyes finally settled on Shakuni's minister, Purochan, who stepped forward, his forehead glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.

"Princess," Purochan began, his voice oily and hesitant, "such...haste...in matters of state reeks of coercion. Surely, the noble Shakuni—"

"—Lies, a coward and a cunning bastard, unable to guide this kingdom," Ishani interrupted, her smile widening, a flash of white teeth that held no warmth. "And if he dares to show his face within a hundred yojanas of Kosala's borders, Kosala's arrows will find his throat before he has a chance to blink. Consider that a...guarantee of good faith."

A murmur, like the rustling of dry leaves before a storm, rippled through the court. Duryodhana's knuckles whitened as he gripped the arms of his seat, his face a mask of complex emotions. The halting of weapon shipments and the opening of trade routes were concessions that would stabilize their fractured economy and military strength. 

 Bhishma and Vidura, the twin pillars of Kuru wisdom, exchanged a long, significant glance. A silent conversation passed between them – a weighing of consequences, a recognition of necessity. Then, they nodded at Karna, who leaned against a distant pillar, his arms crossed, a grim satisfaction on his face.

"Bhratashree," Vidura began, his voice quiet but firm, addressing Dhritarashtra, "Surely, you see the wisdom in this alliance. It offers a lifeline to our people, a chance to rebuild and recover."

Bhishma, his voice carrying the weight of generations of Kuru honor, added his assent. "The Princess speaks the truth, Putr. This treaty is not born of coercion, but of necessity. It is a path to stability, a shield against further suffering."

Dhritarashtra, torn between the logic of Bhishma and Vidura, the desperation of his people, and the lingering fear of Shakuni's wrath, sighed heavily. The sound was like the weary exhalation of a dying beast. "Let the treaty be sealed," he conceded, his voice devoid of triumph.

A collective sigh of relief swept through the court, but it was cut short.

Purochan, his face pale but his eyes burning with a fanatic's zeal, stepped forward, defying the consensus. "Maharaj," he protested, his voice rising, "are we to surrender our sovereignty so easily? To bind ourselves to a foreign queen? This treaty is a noose, disguised as a garland! We must consider the long-term implications! The potential for-"

Ishani's smirk was a blade, honed to a razor's edge. "The long-term implication, Minister, is that your people will prosper. Or would you prefer they bleed, while you cling to the rotting corpse of your pride?"

From the side, the Pandavas exchanged glances. Yudhishthira, ever the pragmatist, nodded slowly, a rare smile gracing his lips. The cessation of enemy weapon supplies removed a critical threat.  Draupadi, her eyes gleaming with admiration, inclined her head in approval. She nodded at Ishani, who smiled back in glee. 

Gandhara,

 Shakuni lay upon a silk-draped bed, his face gaunt and pale. A rasping cough rattled his chest, and his eyes, though still sharp, were dulled by fever. He was far from the picture of health and vigor he usually projected. The news relayed by a shaken Purochan only served to further weaken him.

"They...they agreed?" Shakuni snarled, his voice a hoarse whisper. He tried to rise, but a wave of dizziness forced him back against the pillows. "Bhishma and Vidura, those self-righteous fools! How could they be so blind?"

Purochan, standing before him with his head bowed, shifted uncomfortably. "Maharaja, the kingdom is desperate. And Princess Ishani...she presented a compelling case. The halting of weapon shipments, the promise of open trade routes..."

"Weapons! Trade!" Shakuni spat the words, his body trembling with a weak rage. "They are buying our submission with our own birthright! And that woman...she weaves a web of deceit, and they are all too eager to be caught in it." He felt a flicker of genuine unease. Ishani's influence was growing, and with it, her power to unravel his plans. His illness made him feel more vulnerable than ever.

He turned his head towards Purochan, his one good eye glittering with a manic intensity. "And you! You were there! Did you speak against it? Did you remind them of my words?"

Purochan flinched. "I...I did, Maharaja. I voiced your concerns. I spoke of the dangers of trusting Kosala, of the...the potential consequences. But...they would not listen."

"Excuses!" Shakuni groaned, his voice weak but laced with the familiar venom. He was losing control, and the thought terrified him. He wasn't just angry; he was scared. Karna, the one wild card he couldn't fully predict and wasn't human, was aligning with Ishani, along with Vasudev and her royal status. "I gave you clear instructions! Delay the treaty! Sow discord! You were supposed to be my voice in that court, my instrument of chaos. And you failed me!"

Purochan trembled, his carefully constructed facade of composure crumbling. "But Maharaja, what could I do? The tide had turned. Even Maharaja Dhritarashtra, weak as he is, saw the necessity. To oppose it further would have been...suicidal."

Shakuni struggled to sit up, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Suicidal? You think your life is in danger?" he snarled, his voice a mere shadow of its former strength. "You disappoint me, Purochan. I expected more...resolve. I placed my trust in you, and you crumble at the first sign of resistance."

Dining hall, Hastinapur,

The event was a quiet one, with neither of the elders present so all the cousins were eating in peace.

Unseen by the others, under the guise of polite conversation, Ishani executed her subtle maneuver. With a grace born of an unspoken understanding, she stole a portion of mixed vegetables from Karna's plate, replacing them with a serving of her hated brinjal. She couldn't say no while being served, so the only way to not waste it was to put it on his plate because she knew he wouldn't have a problem; rather he would start his cheeky flirting all over again.

Karna's lips curved into a soft, reverent smile. He wasn't surprised by her actions; he anticipated them, knowing she was allergic to brinjal. "You're terrible at subtlety, my Princess" he murmured, his voice a low, worshipful caress, his eyes filled with warmth.

Across the table, Arjuna choked on his juice. The liquid sputtered and sprayed as he coughed, his eyes wide with a mixture of disbelief and a grudging fascination. "By the gods—did she just—?" he gasped, his voice hoarse.

Bhima, never one to hide his emotions, roared with laughter. The sound boomed through the hall, drawing even more attention to their corner of the table. "Jyesht, you've met your match!" he bellowed, slapping Karna on the back with a force that nearly sent him sprawling.

Draupadi, seated beside Yudhishthira, watched the exchange with a knowing smirk playing on her lips. She raised an eyebrow at Ishani with a teasing smile that made Ishani roll her eyes in exasperation.

Karna stared at his plate, then at Ishani, who chewed innocently. "Problem, Karna?" she asked, her voice cool and composed, belying the mischievous glint in her eyes. His eyes burned as a smirk graced his features and Ishani gulped. She knew that smirk was Dev's, probably something to do with his flirting or high intensity words and touches.

Duryodhana, who was first gaping, dissolved into poorly stifled laughter.

But beneath the table, the game continued.

He extended a tendril of his essence. His hand moved, not subtly, but with a deliberate possessiveness, tracing the delicate bones of Ishani's wrist and hand. 

"Such exquisite hands," he murmured directly into her mind, his voice a silken whisper that resonated deep within her soul, a heady mix of desire and dark worship. "Worthy of my most devoted worship, and my most possessive touch. . I ache to draw you onto my lap,  To feed you from my own hands, morsel by morsel as you complain about feeling full. "

Ishani's breath hitched. A surprised gasp escaped her lips in the form of a hiccup, her cheeks flushing a delicate rose. She swallowed the sarcastic retort from her mouth as his calloused hands traced the delicate curve of her skin as another hiccup left her, Draupadi and the others immediately looking at her in concern. 

"I just need water. That's all." She whispered, gulping as Karna handed her a glass, having the audacity to look innocent as he looked at her. 

Idiot. Bastard. Two-faced monkey. Sweet talker. 

Dev smirked inwardly. His Goddess was thinking about him.  

Later,

Bored by the stifling courtly decorum, Ishani sighed, mentioning, "I've never actually seen a Hastinapur market."

Draupadi's eyes lit up with excitement. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" she exclaimed, grabbing Ishani's hand. A mischievous grin spread across her face. "We'll go in disguise," she whispered conspiratorially, "and slip out without anyone noticing. It'll be an adventure!"

They slipped away from the palace, leaving behind the hushed whispers and watchful gazes of the court. The bustling market of Hastinapur was a riot of colors, sounds, and smells. They bartered for exotic spices, their laughter mingling with the calls of the vendors. They ran their hands over bolts of shimmering silk, their eyes sparkling with delight. For a while, they were simply two women enjoying the vibrant tapestry of life, free from the constraints of their royal roles.

But their carefree revelry was short-lived. A shadow fell across their path, a gaunt figure with shifty eyes. With a swift, practiced movement, the thief snatched Draupadi's ornate bracelet, a gift from Arjuna, and vanished into the crowd.

Draupadi gasped, her hand flying to her wrist. Before anyone could react, Ishani moved with lightning speed. Her hand flashed, and a coin, plucked from her purse, spun through the air with deadly accuracy. It struck the thief squarely on the nose. He yelped, a high-pitched, comical sound, and crumpled to the ground, clutching his face. The stolen bracelet lay beside him, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

 Ishani retrieved the bracelet, her expression cool and unruffled, as if breaking a man's nose was an everyday occurrence. She returned to Draupadi, placing the bracelet back on her wrist with a tender smile. "Are you alright, Drau?"

Draupadi, still slightly shaken but also impressed, nodded. "I am now. By the gods, Ishani, you have a wicked aim!"

Their return to the palace was less than triumphant. They were met by a livid Karna, his face a thundercloud of fury. "You left the palace without guards!" he roared, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "Do you have a death wish? Do you have any idea of the dangers you exposed yourselves to?"

Ishani rolled her eyes, her earlier amusement replaced by a familiar exasperation. "Oh, spare me your dramatics, Karna," she said, her voice laced with playful mockery. "We handled it. Quite efficiently, I might add." She gestured vaguely, as if dealing with a common thief was beneath her notice.

Karna's face darkened further, his jaw tight with barely suppressed rage. "Efficiently? You call this 'efficiently'? You could have been killed! Or worse! Do you even realize the political ramifications if something had happened to the both of you?" He took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "This isn't some game, Ishani."

"Oh, for the love of the gods," Ishani retorted, her own temper beginning to fray. "We were gone for a few hours, Karna. And as I pointed out, we are perfectly fine. I hardly think a bruised nose on some petty thief is going to cause a diplomatic crisis." She crossed her arms, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "Besides, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, and Drau as well."

"That's not the point!" Karna snapped, his voice rising again. "It's the principle of the thing! You are a princess of Kosala, and you are the Crown Princess! You can't just wander off whenever you please!" Draupadi sighed, letting Ishani talk back since she knew Karna didn't stand a chance against her.

"And you can't treat me like a prisoner, Karna!" Ishani shot back, her voice equally sharp. "I am not some delicate flower to be locked away in a tower. This is ridiculous!"

The argument escalated, their voices echoing across the courtyard, drawing the attention of everyone present.

"I swear, Karna," Ishani continued, her voice dangerously low, "if you don't stop screaming like an overprotective mother duck, I will curse you to hiccup every time you draw your bowstring! Imagine the battlefield. You take aim, hic, release the arrow... hic... hic... Quite the fearsome warrior you'd be." A wicked grin touched her lips. "The enemy would be shaking with laughter, not fear. They might even offer you a glass of water, out of pity."

From the edge of the gathering crowd, Duryodhana began to laugh loudly.

Vikarna, ever the observant one, added with mock seriousness, "Jyesht. We wouldn't want our most esteemed archer to become the laughingstock of Kurukshetra. Imagine the headlines: 'Karna, the Hiccoughing Hero!' It has a certain... ring to it, wouldn't you say?" He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

The effect was immediate and utterly unexpected. The Pandavas, who had been watching the confrontation with a mixture of apprehension and morbid curiosity, erupted in howls of laughter. Arjuna clutched his stomach, tears streaming down his face. Bhima roared, his booming laughter echoing through the courtyard. Even Yudhishthira, usually the picture of composure, couldn't suppress a wide grin.

Karna glared at all of them as his eyes were set on Ishani. The glint in his eyes told otherwise, and she shifted nervously, knowing Karna wouldn't leave it at this.

Night,

The heavy silence within Ishani's chambers was a stark contrast to the distant sounds of the city.  Ishani sat amidst a sea of scrolls, their parchment surfaces illuminated by the lamps' glow. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she deciphered the ancient script, her slender fingers, adorned with delicate golden rings, moving with a practiced grace. She was a picture of serene focus, seemingly lost in the world of the texts before her. 

Suddenly, a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The air grew heavier, charged with an almost palpable energy. It was a change so faint, so instinctive, that it was felt rather than heard. A prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Her head lifted, her gaze drawn towards the arched doorway.

Karna stood there.

He was framed by the doorway, a towering figure of power and raw magnetism. . His gaze, intense and unwavering, was fixed on Ishani, and a slow, wicked grin curved his lips, a silent promise of things to come. It was a look that spoke volumes, hinting at a hunger that went beyond the merely physical. His hand reached out, his fingers, clad in gauntlets that whispered against the metal, found the edge of the heavy chamber door. It swung closed with a soft but absolute click, the sound echoing in the sudden, intimate stillness. 

Ishani arched a finely sculpted eyebrow, a hint of wry amusement playing on her lips. She set aside the scroll, the ancient parchment rustling softly. "Well, well," she drawled, her voice a low, melodic cadence, "if it isn't the great Karna. To what do I owe this... unexpected pleasure?  Or are you simply here to confirm that your ego has been sufficiently bruised by a mere retort?" Her tone was light, laced with a playful sarcasm. She leaned back slightly, her posture deceptively relaxed.

Karna's grin widened, the expression transforming his features into something both dangerous and darkly alluring. He took a step into the room, his movements deliberate and unhurried, each stride radiating an aura of controlled power.  Then, he knelt, his dark eyes, intense and mesmerizing, gazing up at her with an expression that bordered on reverence, yet held an undeniable undercurrent of fierce possession.

"Bruised, Pari?" he murmured, his voice a low, resonant purr that seemed to vibrate in the very air between them. . "How could I, a mere mortal, harbor such a fleeting, insignificant thing as ego in the presence of one I have yearned to worship since my soul first recognized its other half? You are my beloved goddess, Ishani. The embodiment of power and beauty, of celestial grace and untamed fire, that even the darkest, most primal corners of my being crave, the light that guides me."

His hand reached out, his fingers trailing lightly along the edge of a scroll near her hand, the ancient symbols seeming to pulse beneath his touch. Then, with a slow deliberation, he moved to capture her own. His touch was surprisingly gentle, yet possessive, as if he were claiming a precious treasure. 

"Tell me," he whispered, his gaze lifting to meet hers, the intensity in his eyes burning like a newly forged star, "what does a goddess offer her most devoted worshipper? What boons, what blessings, what punishments, does she bestow?" His other hand moved, tracing the curve of her hip, his touch sending a shiver through her, a sensation both unfamiliar and undeniably potent. It was a caress that spoke of adoration, of longing, and of a hunger barely leashed.

Ishani's breath hitched, catching in her throat. The nearness of him, the heat of his gaze, the possessive caress of his hands, was a heady assault on her senses. She tried to maintain her composure, to cling to her carefully constructed facade of cool detachment, but it was crumbling rapidly. "Oh, I'm sure the list is endless, isn't it?" she replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, though a betraying tremor ran beneath the surface. "Eternal damnation? Or, if you're particularly fortunate, an eternity of my scintillating company? Do enlighten me, my devoted worshipper, what manner of divine retribution have I earned today?"  Her heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed the growing turmoil within her.

Karna's chuckle was a low rumble, a sound that seemed to vibrate not just in the air, but within her very bones. It was a sound that spoke of dark amusement, a confidence that bordered on arrogance, and yet, beneath it, a raw vulnerability. "Retribution, Goddess? Never. Not from me. Only...devotion. A devotion that consumes, that reshapes, that binds."

He shifted, kneeling lower, his gaze never leaving hers, his eyes now burning with a possessive fervor that bordered on obsession. His hands moved from her hips, trailing down her legs until he reached her feet. Ishani gasped softly, a sound that was half protest, half surrender. He took one of her feet in his hands, his touch reverent, almost worshipful, but with an underlying possessiveness that sent a shiver down her spine.

"It is not fortune," he corrected, his voice a low, husky growl, "but fate. My fate. To be bound to you, to serve you, is the only purpose my existence holds." His hands went to her feet when she jerked.

 "Karna...Don't" she began, her voice barely a whisper, the sarcasm gone, replaced by a mixture of shock and an unfamiliar heat.  "I told you not to do this," she said, her voice strained, a tremor running through her.

His grip tightened, not painfully, but with an unyielding strength that brooked no argument. He held her foot firmly in his hands, his gaze locking onto hers. He lifted her foot, his lips brushing against her toes, then the arch of her foot, his kiss lingering there, a soft, intoxicating pressure that was both worshipful and carnal. "You told me," he acknowledged, his voice low and dangerous, "but you did not command me. And I," he continued, his thumb stroking the sole of her foot with a possessive caress, "obey only my heart. And my heart," he finished, his eyes burning with dark devotion, "belongs to you."

He looked up at her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that seemed to consume him, body and soul. "To be with you, my Goddess, is not a punishment, but an addiction. To touch you...to worship you in this way...it is the only sacrament I acknowledge. My devotion is not a choice, but a compulsion, a dark hunger that only you can satiate." His hands moved up her calf, his touch lingering, caressing, exploring with a possessiveness that made her skin crawl and yet, thrum with a strange, undeniable heat. "Let me show you," he breathed, his voice a silken promise, "the depth of my devotion. Let me show you how completely, how utterly, you own me."

Just as she was about to respond, a shadow slipped into her chambers, not from the doorway, but from the open balcony. A figure, agile and silent moved, a blade glinting wickedly in the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains. Ishani, her attention fixed on Karna, didn't even see him approach. She was about to say something when Karna lunged for something behind her.

 One moment he was a few feet away, the next, his hand clamped around the assassin's wrist, stopping the blade inches from Ishani's exposed neck. There was a sickening crack as bone gave way under his grip. "Wrong person," hissed a voice drenched in darkness. Karna's eyes burned like embers, and the assassin's scream was cut short, the sound swallowed by a wave of dark energy that seemed to emanate from Karna himself. The assassin's body convulsed, then went limp, a wisp of smoke curling from his skin, carrying the faint, acrid smell of burnt flesh.

Karna didn't even glance at the fallen intruder. His entire focus was on Ishani. He moved with a speed that belied his size, his powerful arms reaching for her, pulling her close against his chest. He held her so tightly it was almost painful, as if he needed to reassure himself that she was truly there, unharmed.

"Are you fine, Pari?" he rasped, his voice rough with a raw, possessive concern that sent a shiver down Ishani's spine. His eyes, still glowing with the eerie light, searched her face, her body, for any sign of injury. She nodded, not finding words to ask as to how and why a man came after her again.

 Finding none, he sighed, a shuddering breath that spoke of a terror he would never admit. He then held her, one hand on the back of her head, protectively, his fingers gently carding through her hair.  The air around them crackled with a dark energy, a palpable aura of menace that warned anyone who dared to threaten what was his.

"Who dared to do this again? Are they stupid? Do they not realize that this means once again provoking Kosala?" She whispered, when Karna nodded.

"Go to sleep, Pari. We'll deal with this tomorrow." He murmured, his fingers glowing as he touched her forehead, her eyes instantly closing.

His mind raced, already piecing together the puzzle. Shakuni. The crippled snake was the only one cunning and cowardly enough to send a hired killer instead of facing his enemies directly.

 "I will pay him a visit later," he thought, his voice a chilling whisper in his mind, "and ensure he understands the consequences of such...misguided actions."