Love Across Time

Seventy Three

-𝓘𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓪 𝓿𝓼 𝓐𝓻𝓳𝓾𝓷-

A suffocating silence had descended upon the Pandava chambers, a stark contrast to the bustling energy that usually filled the space. The weight of the decision hung heavy in the air, as thick and oppressive as the dust that settled after a storm. The ornately decorated walls seemed to mock them with their silent grandeur, a stark reminder of the life they were being forced to relinquish.

The news had been a bitter pill to swallow. Dhritarashtra's request, cloaked in the guise of concern, felt more like a thinly veiled threat.  He'd insisted on Kunti staying behind in Hastinapura, a not-so-subtle way of ensuring the Pandavas' loyalty, a tethered mother a convenient hostage. Though the brothers yearned to argue, to defy this blatant manipulation, Kunti's quiet acceptance silenced their protest. They all understood the unspoken threat, dissent now could jeopardize everything.

A hollowness echoed in their hearts, a gnawing emptiness that mirrored the bareness of the room. They may be forced to leave their mother behind, but they wouldn't be broken. This wasn't just about Khandavaprastha anymore, it was about a future stolen, a kingdom usurped, and a family fractured. Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of defiance remained. 

Seeking solace, Aanya wandered into the palace gardens, the once vibrant blooms now tinged with the melancholy of their impending departure. As she walked, a soft rustle in the bushes caught her ear. A moment later, a familiar sight emerged, the tiny bunny from yesterday, its cotton-ball tail twitching inquisitively.

A gasp escaped her lips from a sudden wave of tenderness. "Hey there, little one," she whispered, crouching down to greet the creature. It hopped closer, sniffing at her outstretched hand with a twitching nose. A small smile tugged at Aanya's lips. "Did you come to say goodbye?"

The bunny nudged her hand with its head, a silent farewell in its soft brown eyes. Aanya scooped it up gently, its fur a comforting weight against her palm. 

Suddenly, the peace shattered. A gasp escaped her lips as the bunny, startled by the sound of approaching footsteps, leaped from her grasp and disappeared back into the bushes. Aanya whirled around, her heart skipping a beat, to see Duryodhana standing there, his face contorted in a sneer that mirrored the unwelcome intrusion. 

Duryodhana's sneer deepened as the bunny vanished, his dark eyes flashing with something akin to spite. "Enjoying your last moments in paradise, Aanya?" he drawled, his voice dripping with saccharine mockery.

"Duryodhana," Aanya straightened, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Don't you have more important matters to attend to, like gloating to your court about your 'generosity'?"

Duryodhana's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. "Ah, yes," he said, recovering quickly. "The court. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be preparing for your grand exile to… what was it again? The wasteland of Khandavaprastha?"

Aanya held his gaze, her voice calm but firm. "Exile or not, Khandavaprastha will be a kingdom nonetheless. One built on our own merit, not through deceit and trickery."

Duryodhana scoffed. "A lofty ambition for a bunch of forest dwellers. Don't come crying back to Hastinapura when the wild beasts make a meal of you."

"Oh, just like you do, crying back to your father whenever your schemes crumble," Aanya retorted, her voice laced with a sharp wit that momentarily disarmed him.

Duryodhana's face darkened. "Aanya," he began, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

Aanya rolled her eyes, refusing to be cowed. "Why are you always on a fighting mode, Duryodhana?" she challenged. "Hastinapura is yours now, what else do you want? You've snatched the kingdom, manipulated the court, even tried to burn your family alive. Yet here you are, still unsatisfied."