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

𝙲𝙷𝙰𝙿𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝟸𝟸

Kaampilya, Paanchaal

The elegant corridors of Paanchaal echoed with mirth, contrary to what it was a day before.

It was as if a flick of fingers had just changed everything.

Those eyes that were cornering the brothers with looks of retort were now beaming with a sudden respect, that too overnight. Whispers echoed through the halls and corridors, of awe, and once those mouths that doubted their ethics were now in oblivion. 

Because of Drupad's fear. 

What. . . what did even Vyaas say to Drupad that completely changed everything? 

The guards bowed to Arjun as if he was a God, while he strode past the corridors. 

He was a rare carve of lethal power and raw masculinity, yet there was a apodictic, unapologetic elegance in his every stride, a grace that was adjunct with his leonine strength of a deadly warrior.

The layer of tan over his earth kissed hue was a standing decree to his years of ruthless training, every muscle honed and engraved with abrasiveness it bore through. The streaks of marks by weapons and arrows spluttered across his chiseled back, flared in pride. 

Dressed in a navy blue angavastra, the silk fabric clung to his sculpt chest to elevate his panache with ease, the flecks of gold terminating at the end of the shimmering raiment woven with a pristine grandeur of royalty.

His white dhoti, finely embroidered with threads of gold effortlessly harmonized with his suave frame, were tethered across his lissome abdomen to delineate his fervid limbs of perfect prowess. 

His dark curls left unfettered bounced on his broad shoulders, shimmering like  silk, the untamed threads gathered by a bejeweled diadem, the loose strands falling across his forehead like gentle waves flaccid with the zephyrs. 

There was an untamed charm with which his curls fluttered across, suave yet wanton like the flickers of fire and waves but with an added softness to his blooming youth. 

His amber eyes, deep and warm were a lavish enchantment of enigma, glowed with a velvety dazzle, enough to mask the stir that his heart was in. 

Paanchaal seemed like a puzzle that he had left unsolved, years ago. 

His heart pounded against his chest as he drunk in the vast halls, the endless corridors and flowing mirth, which faded into his delusion with the echo Drupad's desire that had rendered him a sleepless night. 

It was more unsettling than Drupad's sudden agreeance. . .   

His forehead was sheen with a layer of sweat as he walked past the halls, looking around with a tightness that gripped his chest. 

Only to be drawn out from it from a giggle of maidens up at the balcony, his internal chaos taking a temporary setback, at the sight. . .

Draupadi was laughing with her friends, with an unbeckoned glow of youthful mirth. 

Arjun seemed to freeze slowly, as the curls of her loose strands swayed with a peer from between the girls, a wide, soft grin etching on her lips the next moment. And without second thoughts, he saw her tearing away from them with a peart vivacity, the grin never fading. 

Her nimble fingers trailed along the balcony railing, her loose curls bouncing across her forehead as she quickly darted past through the corridor with a rendering elegance like the swaying winds. 

She fluttered like a chirruping lark, excited and cheerful, like the blossoms of springs even in the dearth winters.

And he couldn't help but articulate the corner of his lips into a smile, his strides almost turning into a scurry of zeal towards her, the smile etching into an unknowing, full fledged grin.