Prayana

04 | Hands Joined

It felt like every nerve in Uttaraa's body was hyperactive.

It didn't quite help that she had woken up early—which she hated to do—in order to get ready for her marriage, so both sleep and nerves were tugging at her brain, making Uttaraa want to just collapse on the bed and sleep the entire day away.

The maidservants were styling her hair and correcting her jewellery under the watchful eye of her mother. She would have to change her clothes again after the beginning rituals either way, and the thought of going through all that painstaking process again was a pain she did not want to think about.

She took a deep breath, staring at herself in the mirror.

Her brothers entered.

"Wow," Shankha had uttered under his breath. "You look... ethereal, Sahodari."

Uttar smirked a little, "Best not to give her too much of an ego, Bhrata Shankha." He took Uttaraa's hand and squeezed it a little to let her know the words were only teasing.

"You know I'm right," Shankha had protested quietly, but then quickly doubted himself when Uttar raised an eyebrow at him. Uttaraa couldn't help but think that if her oldest brother was around more often, he would have realised Uttar was only teasing.

But it wasn't something that could be helped. Shankha was the crown prince and he had more duties than either of them combined.

"Anyway," she started, her voice small.

Both her brothers seemed to catch onto her nervousness and Uttar squeezed her hand once again.

Shankha leaned in, gaze quickly darting to Sudeshna who stood impassive above them, and said, "I promise you, Uttaraa, we'll be right by your side no matter what happens."

Uttaraa swallowed, her throat dry, forcing the voices in her mind to shut up.

"We can only hope," she said hopelessly, voice utterly quiet.

She tried to ignore the wooden gaze of her mother staring at the wall above the three of her children.

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Abhimanyu tried his best not to fidget as the servants draped his clothes on him. He had never had a habit of remaining still—yet another thing he got from his Matula and Ma—even if he were sitting or standing, his fingers would always be messing around with something.

So it was understandably hard for him to avoid moving around as soft and rich silk was wound around his body.

His parents were sitting only a distance away from him, talking silently, their gaze darting to him every few minutes.

He exhaled shortly, eyes darting to the servant who was adjusting his uttariya, and then forcing himself to focus on the sensations he was currently experiencing, in an effort to distract himself from the pit forming in his stomach.

But then someone was at the door.

All three royals looked up to see Pradyumna standing in the doorway, hovering somewhat awkwardly.

"Pradyumna! Come in, vatsa!"

Abhimanyu's eyes wandered away as the usual greetings happened, wondering why Pradyumna had come here. He had never really been close to Pradyumna, considering the age difference between them and the circumstances Pradyumna grew up in. If Abhimanyu was truly honest, he had to say Pradyumna was never really comfortable with any of his cousins, and very few of his own brothers; he preferred the company of the older generation.