Draupadi

CHAPTER III

"Goodbye, Draupadi. Make sure to miss me," Krishna said with a teasing grin, his voice brimming with mischief.

I rolled my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "Arrive early for my svayamvar, Krishna," I called after him, half-serious.

He turned slightly, his peacock feather catching the light, and his grin widened. "I'll come as soon as I can, Draupadi. And remember—where there is Dharma, there is Victory."

His familiar farewell lingered in the air as he ruffled my hair, much to my annoyance, before walking away without looking back. I watched him go, feeling a strange sense of emptiness settle in. Krishna's presence was an anchor, a rare constant in my turbulent life. As he left to reassure my father that the Pandavas had survived and had not perished in the fire, I knew I would miss him more than I cared to admit.

With a sigh, I made my way to my chambers, where Dhri was waiting. It was early morning—our time, as he called it. Despite his demanding training schedule, he had promised to meet me every day until my svayamvar for what he described as "essential conversations."

The days ahead would be filled with lessons. My father would teach me the dharma of a Kshatriya woman, while Shikhandhi would share their wisdom after lunch. But the part of my routine I cherished most was dinner with Dhri and Shikhandhi in our private quarters. Those moments felt like home—a small haven away from the weight of expectations and the watchful eyes of the court.

As I entered, Dhri looked up and gave me a small smile. His serious demeanor, however, told me this was not going to be a lighthearted conversation.

"Drau," he began, his tone measured, "to understand Arjun, you must first understand the Pandavas and their family."

I raised an eyebrow, but before I could interrupt, he held up a hand. "And before you ask why this is necessary—or try to argue—just know that Krishna insisted you hear this. So pay attention."

I sighed, folding my arms but nodding for him to continue.

Dhri leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "The Pandavas have endured more than most could imagine. Their cousins, the Kauravas, led by Duryodhana and guided by their uncle Shakuni, have plotted against them since childhood. It's not just rivalry, Drau. It's a relentless campaign to secure the throne for Duryodhana—a throne that belongs by right to Yudhisthira, the eldest Pandava."

His words painted a grim picture of betrayal and survival. The fire at Varanavata, the poisoned cakes, the countless attempts on their lives—the Pandavas' history was riddled with danger and deceit.

I felt a pang in my chest as I listened. How must it feel to be hunted by your own family? To live every day knowing that the ones who should protect you instead seek your ruin?

"Do they ever find peace?" I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Dhri's expression softened. "They do," he said after a pause, though his tone was heavy. "But it's fleeting. Their lives have been a constant battle—not just for survival, but for their place in the world. They've learned to mask their pain, to laugh even when their hearts are breaking. It's how they've endured."

I sat back, the weight of his words pressing on me. The Pandavas—men I had not yet met—felt like figures out of a tragic tale. And yet, I knew that soon their story would intertwine with mine. They'd become my family. My brother in laws.

"Why tell me this now?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Because, Drau," Dhri said, his gaze steady, "you're about to become a part of their story. And if anyone can understand what it means to hold your head high amidst chaos, it's you."

His words settled over me like a challenge and a comfort. The weight of my svayamvar suddenly felt heavier, but beneath it all, a resolve began to bloom.

If the Pandavas had spent their lives fighting for their place in the world, then I, Draupadi, would fight to be their reason for joy—their reminder that even amidst despair, there could be light.

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