•|| Arjun ~ Rise To Power ||• (III)

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝟻

Battlefield of Paanchaal

Arjun's POV

I killed.

I stared at the staggering humans, that fell backwards due to the impact of my arrows; making me feel the bile churn in my stomach cumbrously, a cool shudder sweeping down the spine. The scene of the living body turning into a lifeless carcass—

"Prince!" Puru's shrieking voice alerting me at an instant, and without wasting a time to blinking I responded with an instant stretch of the string of the bow. Hitching my breath, I released a couple of arrows that transformed that multiplied, perforating dozens in front of me. Packs and packs of army men fell and tumbled in front of me, while I kept releasing arrows to cut through the pact, "Puru, drive my chariot to the left!"

Sweat beads sheathed my forehead with balmy breaths escaping in short pants —I knew, there was no time to ponder about what should I feel and what shouldn't. The margin of my lips was caught between the incisors, my heart thudding fast as saliva washed down my throat as I felt unusually sultry due to everything.

The sounds of the metal weapons clanging, deafening noises of shouts and the din, it was enough to lose one's peace of mind within —And....and I had no ounce of time to contemplate what I was doing — a wave of uncanny distress appeared to be sweeping past me as Puru drove the chariot on my order.

"Shivoham, Shivoham...." Only the word escaped my lips for the while as I clutched my bow firmly. I exhaled deeply, half closing my eyes while repeating the chant that would temporarily waver the cloud of anxiousness from my mind, soul and my heart, "Shivoham."

Shivoham.

Which meant, Shiv and I were no different; but one soul. 

Among the first words which Maa and Pita had taught me when I had barely learnt to speak. An uncanny comfort, a sense of relief used to captivate me whenever my lips uttered the holy word, a pacification ushered through me whenever I needed it. 

"Prince, are you feeling fine?" I heard Puru spinning his head back for a moment with arched brows, and then turning front and trotting the chariot forward. I responded with a hum and continued mouthing, the sultry breeze felt afresh as I did; the sweat evaporating from my skin to impart a cooling sensation. I suspired deeply, shutting my eyes for a while and trying to eject the ghastly vision of the spluttering of blood and separated heads, "Shivoham...Shivoham."

Everything is fine Arjun. Everything is fine.

You're doing your duty, it's nothing else. You haven't killed any unarmed men.

You haven't.

Lives are lost in war Arjun, there is not much to ponder about it.

My lips parted open, as those words began to contemplate in my mind, perhaps my inner-self trying to comfort me up. 

They have attained a death proud-worthy. A proud-worthy death that is. 

You haven't done anything unrighteous.

A gulp of saliva washed down my throat. I haven't done anything unrighteous; I haven't. 

I haven't. 

My heart gathered for a while, even amidst the din I felt I could hear it's beat and it pulse that traversed up to the topmost part of my mind. Firming my grip over the bow, a momentary gnash of teeth was followed by a volley of arrows; the searing sleek tips perforating through the frontier line, my chest heaving up and down. The chariot adjusted itself to suite, the swishing subtle wind that blew away the trickles of sweat that crept down through my temples, I felt my fingers numbing itself as I released every arrow. 

As much as I wanted the war to end, I could not. I knew that I had one word to keep myself together for the moment, and that was nothing but the chant of Shivoham. 

Two prahars had swept away in a blink of an eye yet there was no signs of any side winning or visibly losing. 

Refilling my quivers, I had finally summoned the Agneyastras that had almost destroyed more than a quarter of the Akshouni of Raaja Drupad; the chariot penetrated through the enemy, and my weapons slashing them over and over again, with my consistently endeavoring to steady my heart. 

I half slid my bow with a frown on my face, killing off another set of men that had launched their arrows, mine slicing through them that split them into two, some lacerated through their heads, their chests or limbs; staggering back and heaping over each other after the fall—

The horses of my chariot neighed and lifted their paws, my neck tilted to a side, my arrow perked up on the bow and released—when another set of arrows cutting through mine made my brows arch up in a subtle surprise. Opposite to mine was staged another, a bulky moustachious youth with a tenacious stare and half holding his bow in a low position, "Destroying a lot, Prince of Hastinapur, aren't you?!" His jaw ticked, and I could sense both mockery and slight shock in them as well through the scream. 

And I once knew he was a Prince. 

"Ask your father to surrender, and I shall halt with whatever I am doing!" I breathed out wildly, my mind coveting to rest itself for a while, the splitting images of thousands of them spluttering blood, I had perhaps no wish to perhaps deliver a more witty answer that moment to counteract his tone—

What would have happened if the entire war was in my hands? 

"You are Arjun, aren't you?!" He stretched the arrow up to his ear, as if in a tonality to challenge me, and I at once knew what I was in for. 

My fingers travelled behind my neck and pulled out an arrow—drawing it against the bow and pointing it towards the Prince of Paanchaal with a wagging of my head. I saw his lips twitching slightly, and etching into a smirk of jubilance.

"Battle Satyaajit, O Prince of Hastinapur!"

★★★★★★★

A/N

Sakshaat brother-in-law se muqaabla (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Btw the war sequences are extremely difficult to write 🥺💔.

Signing off for today!

Kiritija Nushkie