Anya's ancient antics: a mahabharat tale

chapter 40

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Anya sat on the bed, bouncing slightly with excitement as Tara fussed over the final details of her appearance. The silky nightgown, something she'd smuggled from her own time, felt like the most luxurious thing she’d ever worn. The pristine white fabric draped elegantly over her figure, clinging just right in all the places she hoped would catch Duryodhan’s eye. Tara, her maid, had insisted on brushing her hair until it shone like a polished mirror.

“Perfect,” Tara muttered, taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

Anya grinned at her reflection, barely able to contain her giddiness. “Do you think he’ll notice? You know, all the effort we put into this?”

Tara raised an eyebrow. “If he doesn’t, my lady, then he’s either blind or incredibly stupid.”

“I like that you didn’t rule out the second option,” Anya snorted, earning a chuckle from her usually stoic maid.

Once Tara left, Anya couldn’t help but let out a little squeal. This was it. The big night. Her first night as a married woman. In her mind, scenes from the many dark romance novels she’d devoured played like a movie. *Duryodhan, with his intense gaze, storming in, picking me up like I’m a delicate flower, whispering something terribly romantic yet slightly threatening—like they do in the books! And then…* she blushed at the thought.

But first things first: energy. Anya reached for the plate of sweets Tara had left on the bedside table. “Can’t have a big night without fuel,” she reasoned, popping a sweet into her mouth. “I mean, what if things get intense? I need my sugar levels up!”

She shoved another sweet into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “This is probably what they don’t tell you in those romance novels. The heroine is probably starving half the time.” She chuckled at the thought and, with a satisfied sigh, lay back against the pillows, imagining how the night would unfold.

*He’ll probably stride in all dark and broody, sweep me into his arms, and then…*

The door creaked open, and Anya quickly sat up, excitement bubbling over. Duryodhan stepped inside, his large frame filling the doorway. He looked every bit the dark, handsome hero she’d imagined, his deep-set eyes flicking to her. His robe hung loosely around his broad shoulders, and his hair, slightly disheveled, gave him a rugged look that sent Anya’s imagination into overdrive.

Her heart raced. *This is it! He’s going to say something swoon-worthy now!*

Duryodhan walked over to the bed, his expression softening as he looked at her. “You must be tired, Anya,” he said, his voice a deep, comforting rumble. He sat down next to her, gently patting her head like one would with a puppy. “Get some rest.”

Then, to her absolute horror, he leaned down, kissed her forehead, and—without so much as a second glance—lay down and closed his eyes.

*Wait… what?!*

Anya blinked rapidly, her mind racing to catch up with what had just happened. “Hold on… is he… did he just… sleep?”

She sat there, stunned, for what felt like an eternity. This couldn’t be happening. This was supposed to be her grand wedding night! The one she’d been dreaming about, preparing for—reading about! She glanced down at her luxurious nightgown, feeling suddenly ridiculous.

“This is not how it goes in the books!” she muttered to herself, glaring at his peaceful, sleeping form. “Where’s the passion? The fire? The dramatic declarations of love?” She flailed her arms in frustration. “Seriously, Duryodhan? A forehead kiss and ‘get some rest’?! What am I, five?!”

Anya huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at the ceiling. “I wore this gown for nothing. I read dark romance novels for this moment! You fit the brooding anti-hero type perfectly and you just… sleep?”

Her glare shifted back to him. He looked far too comfortable, breathing steadily, completely unaware of her inner turmoil.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t eat all those sweets for this!”

Suddenly, a mischievous grin crept across her face. She wasn’t one to go down without a fight. If he thought he could just ignore her like this, he had another thing coming. Leaning over, she poked his arm. “Hey,” she whispered, nudging him gently. No response. She poked him again, harder this time. “Duryodhan…”

Still nothing.

“Okay, fine,” she muttered under her breath, a wicked gleam in her eye. She grabbed the edge of the blanket he was under and began tugging it slowly, inch by inch, hoping to wake him. “Let’s see how well you sleep now, oh mighty warrior,” she whispered.

But before she could pull the blanket completely away, Duryodhan shifted in his sleep. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into him, his large frame enveloping her. Anya’s heart skipped a beat as she found herself pressed against his chest, his warm breath tickling her ear.

She froze, her face heating up as his arm tightened around her. He murmured something unintelligible in his sleep, his face nuzzling into her hair.

Anya’s mind raced. *This is more like it… kind of.*

“Well,” she muttered under her breath, her cheeks flushed, “at least he’s holding me now. That’s progress, right?”

For a moment, she let herself relax in his arms, her earlier frustration melting away. But then, a sly smile tugged at her lips. “You know, Duryodhan, I’m not going to let you off the hook so easily next time,” she whispered, her voice teasing. “I expect at least a little more than a forehead kiss.”

She wriggled slightly in his grasp, testing to see if he’d wake up. He didn’t. His hold on her remained firm, though, and Anya sighed. “Well, at least I got a cuddle out of this,” she grumbled, though secretly, she was pleased.

As she snuggled into his chest, she couldn’t help but smirk. “Guess I’ll have to plan tomorrow’s attack carefully. You won’t get away with just sleeping through it again!”

With that final thought, Anya let herself drift off, the warmth of Duryodhan’s embrace lulling her into a deep, contented sleep. For all her dramatic expectations, she realized, there was something undeniably comforting about this simple closeness. Maybe she didn’t need the dark romance novels to guide her after all.

At least, not tonight. Tomorrow, though? Well, that was another story.