Draupadi

CHAPTER V

As the svayamvar drew near, I finally received the portraits of the participating princes. With careful hands, I unraveled each one, studying them intently.

The first painting revealed a broad-shouldered man with an arrogant smirk. Seated beside him was another, strikingly similar, though his bushier mustache and menacing eyes lent him a more fearsome air. A third figure stood slightly apart—his skin was fair, his expression serious, almost as if the artist had forced a smile onto his lips.

"This is the eldest and second Kaurava princes, Duryodhana and Dushasana," Dhri remarked, his voice tinged with both scorn and pity. "And with them—Karna, the lowborn warrior who received a kingdom from Duryodhana."

We moved through the corridor, lined with countless portraits of kings and princes, each vying for my hand. My heart remained unmoved, until at last, we reached the one I had been waiting for.

With measured breath, I unraveled the cloth covering the portrait. The moment my eyes fell upon it, an involuntary gasp escaped my lips.

There he was.

Prince Arjun.

Just as Govinda had described, he was breathtaking. Clad in white, his dark complexion stood in striking contrast, his copper-hued eyes shimmering with depth and intensity. A boyish smile graced his lips—disarming, effortless, and entirely too charming. It was the kind of smile that could bring even the most composed heart to its knees.

And my heart, I realized with quiet surrender, was not immune.

Krishna and my father had chosen well.

I rolled up the painting, willing my face into an expression of neutrality. But Dhri, ever perceptive, smirked knowingly.

"I don't need to see any other portraits," I announced, my voice deliberately steady.

His smirk deepened. "Now that you are fully committed to marrying Arjun, Father has asked me to discuss Pathni Dharma with you—the dharma of a wife."

Despite his confident demeanor, I detected a trace of embarrassment in his tone. Speaking to one's sister about such matters was hardly an easy task, but Dhri, always diligent, proceeded with composure.

"People believe men hold power in marriage, but the truth is—women shape the home, and in doing so, shape the family itself," he explained. "A wife must share in her husband's joys and sorrows equally, standing beside him as his guiding force toward righteousness. She must balance strength with sweetness, wisdom with solemnity. Above all, she must never—under any circumstance—allow milk or milk products to spoil."

I blinked. "What?"

Dhri sighed. "It's a sign of neglect, Drau. A wife who lets milk spoil is not attentive to her household."

I bit my lip to suppress a laugh. He had spoken of duty, love, devotion—and somehow, milk had made its way into this sacred lesson.

Still, I listened intently, absorbing every word.

By the time he had finished—his voice hoarse, his breath slightly uneven—I had already made up my mind.

Tomorrow, I would spend time in the royal kitchens. I would learn. I would prepare.

I would be the best wife I could be.

But in the end, I knew—destiny's decision was the only one that truly mattered.

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This chapter was ok I guess. Please read, vote and comment. Hope you liked this chapter. I wanted to show how Draupadi prepared for the svayamvar.