|| Never Without You || [ The Tale Of Arjun-Draupadi ] (I)

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝟷𝟷

Kaampilya, Paanchaal

"Attention, attention!" 

The crowd hollering  had their attention gathered towards the gates, as if a wave of bated breaths.

"Attention! The sinless daughter of Drupad, the Princess of Paanchaal, Princess Krishnaa Draupadi is entering the Swayamvar!" 

The pin drop silence that had been for a while suddenly burst into peals of mirth, with the crowd rushing forward towards the gates, only to be abstracted by the guards. The craze of witnessing the Princess was massive, the ones who had came far from all over Aaryavart was almost cursing the guards for blocking their ways. The windows and terraces of the magnificent palaces were jam packed in no time, with men and women spilling from their trying to peer or peek out. 

Men wanted to see the beauty, and women wanted to know 'why' men wanted to see the beauty. 

Women were astounded. Mothers and wives included. The mothers who had seen their sons not bothering to look at a woman had fallen into the loop of daydreams, and the wives who had claimed with pride that their husbands would never look at any other, seemed to be burning in envy. 

Yet, even the women wanted to see her. 

What was there so mesmerizing about this Princess, that their men were losing senses over her?

They whispered amidst themselves, complaining or exaggerating about their men, brothers or sons. Some even laughed that they were just here to ogle at the handsome Princes who would be arriving, and some joked about how they were desperately waiting for the Princess to be wedded off, so that their men would stop day-dreaming about her. 

Nevertheless, one thing was common. 

All had wanted to see the Princess Draupadi.

The Princes and the Kings had their hearts held, their gaze stuck at the entrance.

And soon, a whiff of the fragrance of blue lotus made their breaths halt then and there. 

She.

It felt as if the gate towards the Heavens had just flung open, and all the trail of heavenly beauty had swirled into her. 

Some had their words stuck right there in their mouths, some had their jaw hung down and some felt as if they had been numbed at the moment as if they had a spell casted upon them, while some had to take the support near them from stumbling. Women cupped their mouth, while some who had felt that they were the prettiest, had their cheeks dusted with crimson and some, had an immediate flame of envy invoking in their heart. 

Even the sound of the trumpets and drums seem to fall into deaf ears, for all they could see was the mystical damsel. 

Her long, dark tresses were adorned with the reddest of the roses. The tender breeze fluttered her loose bangs of hairs. Deep crimson attire swathed her suave frame, no less than the evening carmine rays of the Sun unfurling upon the dusky sky. The gold glittered upon her, an ode to the aureate. 

The scythe of beauty had gored upon them, then and there.

.

.

.

An enchantress. She was no less than that with the way just her glimpse had stunned the crowd. 

 Casting a vivid charm. If not the war, then it here that the heart of men were brutally wounded. 

Her flowing crimson garment trailed behind with the handmaidens, the whiffs on wind hauling her arousing fragrance. Thick locks of hairs that rolled beyond her hips swayed, her swanlike frame gaiting through the aisle like an allure unshackled.