In the serene depths of the forest, where the ancient trees whispered secrets and the sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, Sultana Draupadi found herself wandering amidst thoughts as tangled as the roots beneath her feet. Her mind was troubled, her heart heavy with a mix of emotions—jealousy, protectiveness, and an unspoken fear.
It had been a day like any other in their forest retreat, with the Pandavas and Draupadi resting after a day of hunting and gathering. Yet, something lingered in Draupadi's mind—something unsettling. As she walked quietly along the path, a flash of movement caught her eye.
There, just ahead, was Sultana Karenmauti, a rival sultana from a neighboring kingdom known for her beauty and cunning. Draupadi's pulse quickened, and a surge of protectiveness washed over her. She had seen Karenmauti near Nakula earlier, exchanging pleasantries that left a bitter taste in Draupadi's mouth.
Without a second thought, Draupadi stormed forward, her steps crunching the undergrowth beneath her feet. Karenmauti turned, her expression a mix of surprise and smug amusement. "Ah, Sultana Draupadi," she purred, her voice like honey laced with venom. "What brings you to my corner of the woods?"
Draupadi stopped short, her gaze narrowing. "Stay away from Nakula," she warned, her voice low and dangerous.
Karenmauti's laughter rang out, echoing through the trees. "Why, Sultana Draupadi, I didn't realize you were so possessive. He's a fine man, isn't he?"
In a flash of fury, Draupadi pushed Karenmauti, the force causing her to stumble back against a tree trunk. "He's mine," Draupadi hissed, her eyes blazing with a fire that mirrored the intensity of the sun overhead. "You dare to lay your hands on what is mine?"
Karenmauti straightened herself, a smirk playing on her lips. "And what will you do about it, Sultana Draupadi? Threaten me with exile, as you did your own kin?"
Draupadi's jaw clenched, her fists tightening at her sides. "Consider this a warning," she said icily. "Stay away from Nakula, or face the consequences."
With that, Draupadi turned on her heel and walked away, her heart pounding with a mixture of relief and lingering unease. She knew the encounter was far from over, and the rivalry between her and Karenmauti would continue to simmer, like embers awaiting a gust of wind to ignite them once more.
Meanwhile, the Pandavas, who had been observing from a distance, exchanged concerned glances. They knew better than to interfere in Draupadi's moments of fierce protectiveness. Instead, they whispered among themselves, their thoughts echoing with both admiration and worry for their beloved wife and queen.
