Vibhatsa: Dhristadyumna

Vibhatsa

Dhrishtadyumna cast another glance at the scroll, slowly tracing the lines with his shaky hands.

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦....

As if if he tried hard enough, the lines would change to his satisfaction, as if fate would bend to his will, as if he hadn't said that to himself for the last....

𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯?

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from the wretched prophecy of his birth, to the beckoning moon outside his window.

The rising sun greeted him instead, blazing red blooming against a white canvas, leaking crimson hues.

White like the robes his teacher so loved.

Blazing red like the fire's womb he and Krishnaa had emerged out of.

Crimson like the blood he was born to shed.

𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦?

A hundred thousand explanations could his father come up with to comfort him, to justify what he had created him to do, but the truth would remain the same.

His name would be etched into the annals of history, to be forever known as the man who repaid his teacher with death.

𝘏𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵.

"You did not sleep again last night, did you?" A voice behind him asked, and a moment later, Shikhandi was plopping himself down on the bed beside him without the slightest care in the world.

Dhristadyumna forced an answer out of his parched throat, not quite meeting his brother's expecting glance, "No."

"Why?"

"Of all people," he sweeped the crumbled piece of parchment under his pillows, "need I explain it to you?"

"I do not read minds, brother."

𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘴𝘬 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘬𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘯.....

"I don't want to do this," the truth slipped far too easily from his lips. "I don't want to be remembered as a man who killed the very person that had taught him to wield a weapon in the first place."

Shikhandi nodded solemnly, "Right. But do you want to kill him?"

𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘩𝘦? 𝘕𝘰, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵.....

Shadows moved across his eyes, and a bone deep anger he did not understand moved inside him, scorching his innards till he gasped for a breeze of cold air to slam against him.

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦.....

The image of Drona flashed before him, and his hands curled around the dagger in his scabbard, the desire for vengeance of an insult that predated him smearing his fingertips with blood.

𝘠𝘦𝘴.

Disgust creeped up his spine, around his nostrils, dancing across his eyes, jamming at his throat, till it had coiled around him like an unwanted vine, choking him on his own breath.

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰?

"Why?" There was no masking the crack in his voice anymore. "What has he ever done to me?"

"Nothing," Shikhandi mused, carefully disengaging the dagger from his bloodied hands. "Not yet, atleast."

Dhrishtadyumna snatched his hands away, wrapping them away in a tourniquet quickly fashioned out of his upper garments, "Then, what mad man commits the sin of killing his own teacher, without any provocation at that?"

"The kind that was obtained from the Gods for that very purpose. Then, is it even a sin?"

"And what man obtains a child for the sole purpose of avenging an insult?"

"The one that was angry and humiliated, the one that hoped for a miracle. You are that, our promised miracle."

"A miracle?" Bitterness oozed out of his voice, poisoning their surroundings. "Not a man, then?"

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰, 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦.

"You can be both," his brother caressed his cheek with his hand, easing him on his shoulders, "You are his hope, yes, but you're as much as our father's son too."

𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺? 𝘖𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘦? 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦?

"Then, if I can't be the miracle he needs, will he forgive me?" His voice trembled slightly as he swallowed back the bile down his throat, hoping his brother hadn't noticed.

𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥. 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵.

"I'd like to see the plans of Destiny go unfulfilled, then." Shikhandi laughed out, patting his shoulders. "Now, rest. You need it."

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘬𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥.

The exhaustion he had been unsuccessfully trying to suppress washed over him, inviting him to lie down.

"Wake me up when it's time," was all he managed to utter before his senses lulled into a sweet slumber, the sound of his brother's muffled laughs filling up the room.

𝘏𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦.