Love Across Time

Eighty One

-𝓗𝓾𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓤𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓽𝔂-

The trumpets blared, their triumphant notes echoing through the vibrant city. Today was the culmination of months of meticulous planning, a day etched in history, the Rajasuya Yagna. Aanya, adorned in a shimmering silk saree, stood on the palace balcony alongside Draupadi. Aashvi, her fingers wrapped around Aanya's, squealed with delight at the bustling scene below.

Aanya's gaze swept across the throngs of arriving dignitaries, a kaleidoscope of colors and cultures. Her eyes, however, instinctively sought a familiar figure. There, amidst the throng of Kauravas, stood Karna. A frown creased her brow as she saw him stride confidently beside Duryodhana, their bond an undeniable force. A flicker of disappointment tugged at her heart. Years ago, she had beseeched Kanha to reveal the truth to Karna, hoping it would bridge the gap between Karna and the Pandavas. But fate, it seemed, had its own designs.

Shaking off the melancholic thoughts, Aanya clenched her fist as Jayadratha, his presence a bitter reminder of past transgressions, entered behind Duryodhana. How Duryodhana continued to tolerate the man remained a mystery to Aanya.

A cold dread coiled in Aanya's stomach as she noticed Duryodhana, ever prideful, completely ignore the discreet warnings of a nearby maid who tried to alert him about a disguised pond ahead. His brooding demeanor, fueled by the magnificence of the Pandavas' Yagna and his own simmering jealousy, clouded his judgment. With a haughty gait, he continued forward, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath the ornately woven fabric that concealed the well's opening.

A collective gasp from the crowd rose as Duryodhana's foot found nothing but empty air. He plummeted into the cool water with a surprised yell, his attire instantly turning into a soggy mess. A ripple of laughter erupted from the Pandava brothers, Bheem's booming guffaw echoing across the grounds. Arjun couldn't help but crack a smile at his cousin's misfortune.

Aanya, witnessing the entire scene unfold from the balcony, felt a flicker of sympathy for Duryodhana's predicament, quickly extinguished by the maid's insensitive comment. "Blind's son is always blind," the maid muttered beside her.

Aanya's heart pounded. This seemingly trivial event, this cruel jibe, was the spark that would ignite the inferno of hatred that would eventually consume Draupadi.  She turned to the woman, her voice laced with steel, "Silence! Your words are venomous and ill-timed." The maid recoiled, surprised by the unexpected rebuke.

Aanya then turned to find Duryodhana staring up at the balcony, his face flushed with humiliation and rage. She stiffened, his glare a storm brewing, but knew she had to act.  Meeting his gaze, she forced a small, apologetic smile. It was a gamble, a desperate attempt to extinguish the flames of resentment she knew were rising within him.  She stole a glance at Draupadi, who was stifling a chuckle at his predicament. A silent plea flickered in Aanya's eyes, a plea for understanding, for looking beyond this petty incident for the sake of their future.

"Draupadi, let's go inside," Aanya whispered before leaving the place. Draupadi looked at her with confusion, then noticed Duryodhana glaring at them.

The day stretched before them, a tightrope walk between duty and destiny. Aanya knew the future was not set in stone, and with every action, every word, she fought to rewrite the narrative to prevent the tragedy that loomed on the horizon.

Aanya sighed as she guided a mud-caked Aashvi towards their chambers. Aashvi, ever the whirlwind of boundless energy, had somehow managed to transform herself into a miniature brown statue, a testament to her latest adventure, no doubt.