The battlefield had spoken, and while Drupad's seasoned experience easily triumphed over the sons of Dhritarashtra, fate turned against him when the Pandavas entered the fray. Despite his valiant efforts, his forces could not withstand their unparalleled skills and divine blessings. The outcome was inevitable, and with a heavy heart, Drupad was forced to concede defeat.

The loss came at a grave cost, half of Panchal's kingdom was surrendered, and the balance of power shifted. The northern territories of Panchal now bore a new ruler, none other than Ashwatthama, the formidable son of Dronacharya.

The ascension of Ashwatthama to the throne marked a bitter twist of irony, the son fulfilling his father's long-held grudge against Drupad. The echoes of this defeat left a shadow over Panchal, altering its future in ways no one could yet foresee.

The moment this devastating news reached Kaushiki, she frantically ran toward the soldiers' encampment, her breath uneven, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it would shatter inside her chest. She needed to find Drupad. She needed to see Shikhandini. She needed to know that despite everything, they were okay, at least physically.

But the moment she stepped past the wounded soldiers, past the tired warriors tending to one another, the weight of reality hit her like a crushing wave----they had lost. Half of Panchal, her Panchal had been torn away from them.

And for whom?

Ashwatthama.

A nuisance. A man who did not deserve the land he now ruled. A man who did not fight for it, bleed for it, or love it as her family, her people had.

Yes, it was the Kuru princes who raised their weapons against Panchal, who clashed swords with their warriors, who tore through their defenses like a raging storm. But it wasn't for their own glory. It wasn't for their own vengeance.

It was, because their guru ordered them.

So that his son could sit on a throne he never bled for. So that he could wear a crown made from the ashes of her people's sacrifice. So that he, a man with no rightful claim could be called a king.

No, not a king.

But an imposter. A usurper. A man who walks through the ruins of their loss with a victory he never truly earned.

Her fists clenched tightly, her sorrow twisting into pure, simmering hatred. He was not a king. He was a thief, claiming a throne that was never meant for him. A man who stole with pride, as if taking what did not belong to him made him powerful.

But he would see.

One day, he would see that Panchal was not his to rule. And Kaushiki? She would make sure of it.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she took in the sight around her----chaos, pain, loss. Everywhere she looked, her people, her family, were suffering.

In one corner, Danika and Devika's father, one of Panchal's bravest army chiefs, sat against a post, his body barely holding on, while Anagha's father, the Raj Vaidya, carefully tended to his wounds, his hands steady despite the grief weighing heavy in his eyes.

On the other side, Uma's father, another valiant chief, moved from soldier to soldier, ensuring they were tended to----even as blood soaked through his own armour, even as his steps wavered from his own injuries.

But someone was missing. One more army chief should have been here.

A heavy dread curled in her chest as she stepped forward, her voice barely above a whisper "Raj Vaidya ji... where is Veda's father?"

The Raj Vaidya paused. His hands stilled. His eyes lowered.

Kaushiki's breath hitched.

Then, in a voice thick with sorrow, he spoke the words that shattered her world.

"He lost his life... fighting for our kingdom."

At his words, something inside her broke. The tears she had tried so hard to hold back finally spilled over, silent but endless, as her heart ached for her friend, who lost her only family, for yet another life lost to a war they never wanted.

How much more would they have to endure?

"The new king, Ashwatthama, sent the bodies from the borders of Ahichhatra... and among them was my brother-in-law----Veda's father." His gaze lowered, grief etched into every line of his face.

A storm raged within her, fiercer than any battle ever fought. Kaushiki's sorrow twisted into something darker, something hotter----pure, unyielding fury.

Her fists clenched, her nails biting into her palms, but the pain was nothing compared to the fire burning inside her.

That Ashwatthama.

His name alone sent waves of hatred crashing through her veins.

That man----no, that thief----who called himself a king now.

The unworthy son of a Guru who preaches dharma but raised a man who knows nothing of it.

The coward who didn't win a kingdom but accepted it like a child handed sweets, without a single drop of honor in his blood.

She had thought she despised him before, but this----this was something else.

He took their land. He took their people. He took their lives.

He had taken Veda's father.

And he stood there, wearing his stolen crown, breathing, while the true warriors of Panchal lay bleeding, grieving, dying.

One day, Ashwatthama, you will pay for this. For every tear shed, for every life stolen, for every piece of Panchal you dared to claim as yours.

And I swear, on my blood, on my land, on every soul you have wronged-

I will make you regret it.

Some moments later a weary Drupad stepped into his palace, his footsteps heavy, his soul even heavier. The walls, once a symbol of his strength, now whispered mockery with every step, their silence far crueler than any jeering crowd.

But the true torment was not in the echoes of his halls, it was in the echoes of Dronacharya's voice, ringing through his mind like a blade slicing through his pride.

"I return to you half of the Panchal you once called your own."

Each syllable had landed like a blow, carving away at his dignity until he was left with nothing but the ruins of his own arrogance.

And then came the final insult----the one that shattered him.

"You have no son, so why not consider mine as your own and help him rule the kingdom?"

The words slithered into his ears, wrapping around his heart like a viper, sinking their venom deep. Drona's son to sit on a throne that should have been ruled by his blood?

It was not just a humiliation. It was a curse.

The great Drupad, the king who once stood unshaken, now stood stripped of honor, left to rule over half a kingdom and a whole disgrace.

Drupad took his every step with a heavy heart, each step weighed down by the silent echoes of his defeat. And the moment Kaushiki saw him, she immediately rushed toward him, her anklets chiming like a frantic, melodious plea. Her heart pounded in her chest, heavy with worry, as her shimmering dupatta trailed behind her.

She immediately threw her arms around him, holding him as though her embrace alone could shield him from the world. Her voice, laced with desperation and trembling with emotion, broke through the silence.

"Jyeshth Pitashree, are you alright?" she asked, her words quivering as tears cascaded down her luminous cheeks, each drop glinting like molten pearls in the dim light. Her delicate hands clung to him tightly, as if letting go would confirm her worst fears.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright soon" she whispered softly, her voice trembling yet laced with an unyielding determination.

Her gaze, searched his face for the faintest sign of reassurance, even as her own glistening eyes betrayed the storm of fear and helplessness brewing within her.

Yet, beneath the sorrow, her love shone like a beacon, steadfast and resolute, silently vowing to stand by him through whatever trials lay ahead.

Kaushiki had never seen her Jyeshth Pitashree so burdened, his proud shoulders weighed down by both fury and sorrow.

The sight of Maharaj Drupad, once a symbol of unwavering strength and resilience, now so defeated, pierced her heart like a shard of sharp iron, as a storm of emotions swirled within her.

And her thoughts indeliberately, again turned to Ashwatthama. The one now sitting on the throne of northern Panchal, the throne her Jyeshth Pitashree had fought for his entire life. Bitterness surged through her veins, her heart hardening with more seething hatred for the man she had never met but already loathed.

Her mind consumed with indignation. Her love for her Jyeshth Pitashree and the pain of his humiliation only fanned the flames of her anger, leaving her determined to never forgive the one who had brought such disgrace to their family.

For Kaushiki, Ashwatthama wasn't just the new ruler of northern Panchal, he was the face of her family's suffering. His coronation as a king was a dagger plunged into her family's pride, and she could feel its sharp edges in every defeated sigh Drupad let out.

And now her once serene and cheerful heart carried a storm of resentment, for him, for only Ashwatthama.

Drupad gently cupped Kaushiki's face, his hands wiping away the tears that had stained her delicate cheeks. His once-fierce gaze softened for a moment as he looked at his niece, her sorrow reflecting his own, but determination flickered in his eyes once more. Straightening his posture, he called out firmly, his voice carrying the authority of a king and the urgency of a man driven by purpose.

"Prepare for my departure to the ashram of Rishi Yaja and Upayaja" he commanded his prime minister, his tone resolute, leaving no room for hesitation.

Kaushiki watched as Drupad's resolve reignited like a spark catching flame. Though she didn't fully understand his plans, she felt a sliver of hope rekindle in her chest. Whatever he intended, she knew it would be the first step toward reclaiming their lost honor.

"Prepare yourself, my child. We will leave for the ashram tomorrow morning." Drupad said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of urgency.

Without sparing another glance, he turned and walked ahead, his robes trailing behind him like the weight of his unspoken thoughts.

Kaushiki stood rooted to the spot, her brows furrowing in confusion "Ashram? But for what?" she called out, her voice tinged with both curiosity and concern.

But Drupad did not pause or turn back. His silence left her questions hanging in the air, adding to the growing sense of mystery. The only answer she received was the firm echo of his retreating footsteps, leaving her more perplexed than ever.

But before anything else, Kaushiki needs to find Veda.

Her friend, her sister in all but blood. Who had lost everything today. Her father, the only person she had in the name of family was now gone, and Kaushiki knew... knew that nothing could ever fill that void.

Her feet pounded against the earth as she ran, faster than the wind, faster than her own breaking heart. The palace gates, the streets blurred past her, but she didn't stop, not until she reached Veda's doorstep, where the weight of loss hung heavy in the air.

And there, she saw her, surrounded by their friends.

Veda sat still----too still.

As if time itself had abandoned her. Her shoulders did not shake, her lips did not tremble, her breath came and went in the same hollow rhythm. But it was her eyes that made Kaushiki's chest ache.

They were empty. Devoid. Silent.

The fire, the mischief, the warmth, it was all gone.

Kaushiki felt her throat tighten, but no words came. What could she even say? What words could possibly bring back a father stolen by war?

So she did the only thing she could. She dropped to her knees beside Veda and wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight, holding her together.

And when Veda finally, finally broke, silent tears falling down her vacant face----Kaushiki held on even tighter, as if her embrace alone could keep her from shattering completely.

The rest of the girls followed, their own eyes glistening with unshed tears as they knelt beside Veda, wrapping their arms around her.

A shield.

A cocoon.

A silent promise that she was not alone.

Danika stroked her hair gently, whispering, "We're here, Veda. Always."

Uma held her hand tightly, as if trying to anchor her to the world she was slipping away from. "You don't have to be strong. Not with us."

Anagha pressed her forehead against Veda's shoulder, her voice breaking, "Cry, scream, hate the world----do whatever you need. But don't shut us out."

Devika and Indu held onto her as if she would disappear, their whispers soft yet unshakable.

"You still have us."

"We won't let you carry this alone."

And in the center of it all, Veda broke. Tears spilled from her empty eyes, sobs wracking through her fragile frame, as the unbearable weight of loss crashed over her. But she wasn't falling----they wouldn't let her.

One by one, they held her tighter, absorbing her grief as their own. Whispering the words, she could no longer say for herself.

She had lost everything. But she still had them.

For always and forever.

As the night deepened and the weight of sorrow lingered in the air, the girls remained huddled together, their warmth----a silent defiance against the cold grasp of grief.

Then, in the quiet, Kaushiki pulled back just slightly, brushing away Veda's tears with the softest touch. "You know... your father once said, that his Veda have the brightest smile in all of Panchal" she whispered. "I don't think he'd want you to lock it away forever."

Veda let out a shaky breath, her lips trembling, not quite a smile, but not entirely lost in sorrow either.

Danika sniffled. "She's right. And let's be honest, if you stop smiling, who else will help Kaushiki in her ridiculous pranks? Because we all can't."

Kaushiki gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest. "Excuse me? Ridiculous? I'll have you know, my pranks are a work of art!"

Anagha stifled a teary laugh, wiping her eyes as she looked at Kaushiki.

"Oh really! Because I remember when you spread that ridiculous rumor about Shikhandini Jiji getting married? It spread so fast that even Maharaj asked about it. And you had to run for your life that day as Shikhandini jiji ran after you with a literal sword."

For a moment, the grief in the air lifted, replaced by the warmth of their friendship.

The girls chuckled softly, and for the first time that night, the air felt just a little lighter.

Veda exhaled deeply, closing her eyes. "I miss him" she whispered, her voice fragile yet steady.

Kaushiki took her hand and squeezed. "You always will. But we'll miss him with you."

And as they sat there, gazing out of the window at the vast, starry sky, they realized that grief didn't erase love. It only made it stronger.

And together, they would carry it.

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VOTE●COMMENT

𝗛𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗠𝗮𝗵𝗮 𝗦𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗮𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗹𝗹!!

I know you all want to wrap Veda in the tightest hug, and so do I! But don't worry----Kaushiki and her gang of mischief-makers have got her covered. She is in the best (and most chaotic) hands possible!

I know Kaushiki's hatred might seem a little dramatic, but who wouldn't be furious? The biggest blow wasn't just losing a battle, it was the splitting of Panchal itself.

And who sits on the throne of half her kingdom, claiming it as his own?

Yes, Ashwatthama.

So really, where else would all her fury go? To the gods? To fate? No, no.

It will go towards the kuru princes and majorly at Ashwatthama, because he's got all the benefits from this war without twitching even a finger.

So, her rage finds its rightful target, the walking, breathing, infuriating proof of Panchal's loss.

Ta-Ta and till the next time,
Stay shiny little stars

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