Hastinapur – Queen's Chamber
Draupadi sat beside the open window, braiding her long, dark hair with quiet fingers. The wind played with the sheer veil of her dupatta, carrying the soft scent of jasmine from the royal gardens. That was when Kunti entered, her footsteps slow, as if weighed down by years of silence.
"Draupadi," Kunti's voice held a tremor, "I have kept a secret for too long... One that has burned me from within."
Draupadi turned, her eyes gentle.
"I had a son before Yudhishthir," Kunti whispered. "Before I was even married. The world knows him as Karna."
The silence between them became heavy.Kunti decided to confess the truth,that Draupadi already knew.
Draupadi's lips parted in surprise, her heart skipping. But then, she reached for Kunti's hand.
"You want his forgiveness," Draupadi said softly.
Kunti nodded, tears shining in her eyes.
"I don't know if I deserve it. But I pray the gods grant me one chance."
"You're a mother," Draupadi said, holding her gaze. "And Karna has a heart that knows pain. One day... he'll hear you."
As Kunti left the room, Draupadi stayed back, her thoughts spinning like the flicker of an oil lamp in wind. That's when Nakul walked in, his usual charm twinkling in his eyes.
"Thinking about Arjun again?" he asked with a smirk.
Draupadi sighed. "Is it that obvious?"
"To everyone who has eyes, yes," he laughed, walking in casually and picking up a silver mirror from her table. "Don't worry, bhabhi. He'll return... after causing enough chaos, as always."
She looked at him,stunned.
"Arya,It's not okay to call your own patni—vabhi..."
He only nudged his shoulder slightly.She smiled despite herself.
"Do you think he's alright?"
"He's with Krishna. So... I think the world should worry about itself instead."
Her laughter came like a chime. And in that brief moment, the storm within her paused.
---
Dwarka – The Shores of Celebration
The sun dipped into the ocean like molten gold, casting amber hues on the sands of Dwarka. The palace was adorned with marigolds, fresh mango leaves, and garlands that stretched from one pillar to another. There was music in the air – gentle flute and veena strings echoing Krishna's mood.
Subhadra was a vision of elegance. Draped in a violet silk saree laced with silver threads, her kohl-lined eyes sparkled with mischief and love. Her smile trembled as she looked at her reflection – not as a princess, but as a bride.
Arjun, in a white and gold dhoti with a soft crimson shawl across his shoulder, stood tall – his warrior's frame softened by the emotion in his eyes. A quiet joy settled over him. He wasn't Dhananjaya the invincible today. He was just Arjun – a man in love.
It hadn't taken Krishna long to convince Balaram. The moment he saw Arjun's sincerity and Subhadra's eyes, the elder brother relented. "So be it," he had said. "But treat her not as a prize, Arjun. Treat her as your equal."
Now, before the sacred fire, they stood side by side, hands bound in silken thread, hearts bound in unspoken promises.
Krishna himself performed the rituals, his eyes gleaming with more emotion than he let on.
"You will walk seven steps together," Krishna said, placing Subhadra's hand in Arjun's. "With each step, you bind your souls."
They walked—
One step for trust.
Two steps for companionship.
Three steps for courage.
Four steps for joy.
Five steps for sorrow.
Six steps for understanding.
Seven steps for eternity.
Their vows were simple, yet soaked in the depth of lifetimes.
"I will protect your dreams like I protect my kingdom," Arjun vowed.
"And I will stand beside you in every war your heart must fight," Subhadra replied.
Krishna clapped gently, his smile wide. "Now the path to dharma and destiny becomes clearer."
As the conch blew and petals rained down, Arjun looked at his bride.
Not Draupadi, the fire of his fate.
But Subhadra, the breeze of his past... and now, the anchor of his present.