Arjuna: Through the Lenses of Dwarka

Note: A MASSIVE thank you for all your ridiculously kind comments! (≧∇≦)ﾉ They truly inspired me to post this chapter today (I thought it would take longer).

That said, I have to warn you: this one isn't entirely as lighthearted or unserious as the last. It just... happened. The sudden shift in mood might feel a little odd since these two parts were originally meant to be one, but I felt it was too long for a single chapter. I don't know why long chapters make me so nervous- I guess I just don't want anyone to get bored! 😅😅

Also, I really enjoy diving into the Pandavas' past and reflecting on how their experiences influenced who they ultimately became. It's so intriguing to explore. In this version of the story, things take a different turn from the actual Mahabharata, like in this chapter where Pandu dies much earlier than in the original text (where Arjun is 14 when his father passes). Just a heads-up, this is a creative departure from the sacred text, shaped by my own imagination and interpretations.

Anyway, once again, thank you for your lovely comments. You have my heart. 💕 Please enjoy this chapter!

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The night had grown quieter, the earlier ruckus settling into something softer. The laughter, the teasing, the harmless chaos: all of it had simmered down into a peaceful warmth, a lingering comfort among the Yadavas as they sat together, some still smiling, some watching Arjuna with quiet amusement.

Krishna had done many things tonight.

He tricked Arjuna into drinking. He, the supreme lord of the universe, had successfully gotten his dearest Parth hammered, much to the delight of the others. He had laughed at his cousin's dazed expression, thoroughly enjoying his attempts at holding himself together.

But as Arjuna spoke, leaning against Vasudeva's shoulder- drowsy yet still annoyingly earnest, the air shifted.

"You remind me of my father," he murmured.

The words were softer, almost lost in the stillness of the room, but everyone heard them. The teasing stopped. The smirks faded. The easy mirth in Krishna's eyes dimmed just a little.

Vasudeva, who had been gently supporting Arjuna all this time, stilled.

He knew whom Arjuna was speaking of.

Pandu.

His old friend. His comrade. A man taken too soon.

Arjuna's amber eyes were heavy-lidded, hazy with sleep and intoxication, but behind them- there was clarity. A deep, distant emotion settled in them, something that had been there for years but had never truly been spoken aloud.

"I don't remember him much," Arjuna admitted, his voice dipping into something low, something fragile. "I was too young when he left us. But I remember his voice. I remember how gentle he was. How... how he always looked at us like we were his whole world."

Satyaki, who had been leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, uncrossed them. Pradyumna's amused expression faded into something softer. Even Kritavarma, usually composed, lowered his gaze, it felt like intruding in a private conversation.

Arjuna's hand curled slightly against his knee. He exhaled slowly, carefully, as if trying to gather himself, but the words kept coming.

"Jestha bhrata remembers him more," he murmured, his lips quirking in a way that was neither a smile nor a frown. Just... something aching. "He was the one who held us together after. He was the one who carried all of us when we had no one."