A Journey To Mahabharata

I walked along the shores of Dwarka, the evening sun peeking through the clouds. A pleasant wind was blowing, promising a heavy rain. But even with the upcoming storm, there was peace in the moment.

The royal palace of Dwarka still awaited my visit. Alexa had dropped me off at the shore after a day-long journey; she needed time to cool her system.

I slowly stepped in the cool waters of the sea. I had already started missing my gurukul and the day wasn't even over. As I was reminiscing my days there, started to drizzle. I should go back to the castle. But why? I could just stay here and get wet like the olden days, when I was just kid. After all it had been a while since I had a day off.

And the sea had some calmness about it. Seeing nothing but blue till the edges of the horizon, made my mind just tune out everything. the battles yet to come, the enemies trailing my steps, and the weight of decisions changing things for the worse, everything was left behind in this land. A place of eternal beauty, Dwarka. The land which will be soon lost in this sea.

From the corner of my eye, a flicker of movement caught my attention. Instinctively, I turned, a reflex born not of chance but of countless lessons from Lord Parshuram's relentless surprise attacks.

"A warrior must always be aware of their surroundings," his voice echoed in my mind.

The dagger at my waist was quick to meet the incoming blade. As I turned, the clash of steel rang out, but to my surprise, the sword lacked strength. The force of my parry sent its wielder stepping back. I followed suit, retreating a step to maintain distance, drawing my sword as I settled into an attacking stance.

Black eyes I had seen so often stared back at me. My mind was filled with questions. What was he doing here? Is my family alright? Did he hurt them? Did he win the kingdom of Dwarka? But no Krishna won't lose a match, unless it was necessary. What the fuck is going on and why is Duryodhan here?

"So many questions in your eyes, yet you do not ask even one. Stubborn as always." His words were mocking me, but his dark eyes said a different story. It was as though; they were relieved to see me.

"I swear, if you've hurt Subhadra even a little, I will kill you," I hissed, the words laced with venom. The rain was growing heavier, each drop pounding against the sand and masking the sound of his movements. But I was ready now.

The next swing was visible but fast, too fast. I don't remember Duryodhan being this skilled in sword fighting. Was this supposed to happen in the original Mahabharat too? Did Duryodhan actually get this stronger? I barely managed to defend against the onslaught, parrying each strike as his voice cut through the clash of blades. "Quick to judge, as always. You haven't changed a bit, have you?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I focused on his movements, searching for a pattern in his attacks. When the next opening came, I struck with my dagger, hidden in my other hand, a calculated move. But at the last moment, he stepped back, evading it with precision. Shit I'd lost my element of surprise. Now, we stood apart again, a few steps separating us.

He smirked. "Still using your left hand, Aarohi?" We began circling each other, eyes locked, each of us searching for an opening.

And I was irritated by his informal tone, I snapped, "It's Princess of Dwarka to you."

The rain had turned heavy now, drenching us both. The rain and the sand, not a terrain in which I had practiced. But then again, Duryodhan shouldn't be accustomed to it either. But what is he even doing here?

Without breaking eye contact, I swapped my sword to my dominant left hand, the dagger shifting to my right. This normally should put off warriors who had trained exclusively for right-handed combat.

Duryodhan seemed unusually chatty today. "So, you're not going to ask me why I'm here even when you are dying to ask the same."

I attacked him before he finished his sentence. But the sand dampened my speed, he was able to respond to it quite easily. Damn it.

Undeterred, I kept attacking, the advantage of my left-handed strikes pushing him back. But the treacherous terrain levelled the field, forcing us into a stalemate.

Then he spoke again, his words slicing through my focus like a dagger. "If you're not going to ask, I'll tell you myself—I'm here to marry you."

I stumbled back, the word escaping my lips before I could even think. "What?"

This time he initiated the attack. It took all of me just to defend myself, because I was distracted. I hissed in between the blows, "I told you I'm not going to marry you."

He smirked, his attacks relentless. "Your family has already arranged it. In three days, you'll be my wife."

His words burned through me like fire. As he swung again, I ducked low, narrowly avoiding the blade. Summoning all my strength, I countered with a powerful strike. My sword connected with his, sending it flying from his grasp.

"My family would never do that to me!" I shouted. Why would they arrange my marriage without even asking me?

The sword that flew from his right hand landed seamlessly in his left, a fluid motion so quick I barely registered it before the blade was at my neck. His black eyes bore into mine with an intensity that froze me in place. The cold steel touched my skin didn't cut.

There was almost no space between us when he spoke, his voice low and menacing. "You lost. What were you doing, last three years?"

-------------------

Follow me on Instagram at @chroma.poesia

Word count: 1000