Arjun's POV:
Dwarka. The wind here smelled like salt and sandalwood. It was warmer than Hastinapur, both in weather and in memory.
I stepped out of the chariot and looked up at the grand palace gates—so familiar, yet distant. I had returned after a lifetime, or so it felt.
My feet moved on their own, not toward Krishna's chambers, not toward the gardens I used to stroll through in youthful arrogance, but to one place alone—Subhadra's wing.
If I could change the past, would I?
No. I would still marry Draupadi.
The fire-born woman who shook my soul just with a glance, whose words carried the wisdom of ages. No, I would not undo that.
But this… this ache of having broken a fragile, sacred promise—that I could change, if the gods allowed.
She was sitting on the balcony, eyes fixed on the sea. The bangles on her wrist no longer chimed with joy, and the anklets I had once gifted her now rested dull against silent feet.
The moment she saw me, her gaze flicked away like a stubborn monsoon bird ignoring the coming rain.
"Subhadra," I called softly.
She crossed her arms and turned her back to me. "I see ghosts now," she said, "ones that break promises and return dressed in guilt."
I took a deep breath and walked toward her. "If I am a ghost, it is one that regrets. I came back to say I'm sorry."
She finally looked at me, her large eyes shimmering. "You promised to marry me. You promised to bring me to Hastinapur. Did you forget?"
I knelt down. "I forgot nothing. I only failed to keep time on my side."
"I heard of the Swayamvar. I heard of the five husbands," she said with a shaky voice. "Was I ever in your fate, Arjun?"
"More than fate, Subhadra. You were in my heart."
A silence stretched between us before she whispered, "Then what now?"
I placed a hand on hers. "Now I fix it. I will marry you. And I will take you to Hastinapur—not as a forgotten promise, but as my queen."
Her lips trembled, a smile almost blooming. "You're still bad at poetry," she mumbled.
I chuckled. "Thankfully, nothing can stop you from loving me."
She looked away, blushing.
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Scene Shift: Krishna's Chambers:
The breeze in Krishna's courtyard carried the soft fragrance of blooming jasmine. Birds chirped as if in anticipation, and the murmur of the ocean hummed in rhythm with the divine silence that only one man wore as his cloak.
I found him sitting cross-legged beneath the Kadamba tree, a serene smile already playing on his lips.
"You're late, Parth," he said without looking.
"I was… delayed," I murmured.
"Busy with a woman who throws flowers at you when she's angry?" he grinned.
"How did you—never mind. You know everything."
"I do," he said simply, eyes twinkling. "And yet, I say foolish things just to see you frown."
I sat down beside him. "What should I do next, Madhav? I need to bring Karna back. We need him."
Krishna paused, twirling a blossom between his fingers. "Marry Subhadra."
I blinked. "That's your grand answer?"
"Yes," he said calmly. "Because some wars are not won by bows, Parth. They are won by hearts. Bring Subhadra home. The woman who knows how to heal and see. She will help you reach Karna."
I frowned, confused. "Why her?"
"Because she understands pain that is silent. And Karna's soul is louder in silence than in rage. You must not approach him as a warrior. You must approach him as a brother."
He looked at me then, serious. "Your bow can win kingdoms. But only your heart can win Karna."
I nodded slowly. The weight of what must come next settled into me—not as a burden, but as purpose.
"Madhav… you're the only one who sees the board clearly."
He smiled. "And you, my Parth, are the only one brave enough to walk blindfolded across it."